#quotes about Rowan Whitethorn

[acourtofquestions]

“He was a voice in the void, a secret, silent dreamer.

And so were his companions.”

[acourtofquestions]

Also the fact Aelin got to say them, took the time, & felt safe enough to do so. And then you have Rowan who remembered, took the time to say the same things back (and then some).

Which is SO extra important because she has carried the grief with Sam for so long of all the things she never got to say, she didn’t get to say I love you too (“I hate packing” will forever haunt me, though it’s still a beautiful scene, OW!) or even the grief of all the people in her life that did not love her right or used her desperate wish to be loved against her (*coughs* I hate Arobynn & the one time he uses it to manipulate her) so those words are a big deal not just on a romantic level but a fundamental human one.

And then the same goes for Rowan, who has believed/said he “believes” that “the people you love are just weapons that will be used against you” and here he is loving her. Taking the time to say it (he didn’t get enough time with Lyria and has carried every last word (carved into his very skin) for centuries), knowing how much it means for both of them, and being “unafraid” too (for her & with her).

⚠️⚠️SPOILERS FOR QUEEN OF SHADOWS ⚠️⚠️

I. LOVE. ROWAN. SO. MUCH

“You make me want to live too, Aelin Galathynius”

“Not exist - but live”

"I spent centuries wandering the world, from empires to kingdoms to wastelands, never settling, never stopping— not for one moment. I was always looking toward the horizon, always wondering what waited across the next ocean, over the next mountain. But I think... I think that whole time, all those centuries, I was just looking for you."

He’s literally the standard. I don’t want to hear I love you. I want to hear this shit.

And the fact that Aelin said something similar a couple chapters back?? 😭😭😭😁

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now — Ch. 5

Fic Masterlist

Hi! *hides away*

Jokes. This chapter and the next are what made me start writing LAUN, so yes I’m pretty nervous to post 😅

Also thank you @renxzs for coming up with the name Doranelle White Hawks after I spent a whole day thinking of soccer team names HAHAH <33

Warnings: language, incarceration, mentions of drinking, mentions of injuries, Fenrys locked in a bathroom

Words: 5,2k (I’m coming to terms with my big chapters now)

Fenrys had been cackling for the last five minutes. Rowan was just staring at his friend with crossed arms, unamused.

“Dude. "His friend paused to catch his breath, wheezing. “You’re literally in horny jail."

Rowan flexed his jaw. Yeah, he supposed he were.

The worst part was, Rowan saw it coming. The entire time he hooked up with Aelin at his office, he knew it'd end with something like this.

It could've been worse, though. when Colonel Darrow told him, in a carefully controlled tone, that he knew everything and it'd be easier if Rowan assumed what he’d done, he knew he was fucked.

Rowan had to look into the eyes of the man who guided him through his first steps in the Air Force and tell him, in a more polished way, that he’s fucked his niece in every position imaginable the entire time she was his student. Inside base.

He had never felt more raw, unbridled shame.

He could still go to work, even though Rowan couldn’t, under any circumstance, leave his military base. Also, he wasn’t shackled, and he was in the guardhouse that looked like a cheap hotel, not the one that looked like jail. Any form of guardhouse was a huge punishment, but it had different degrees. In some twisted way, Darrow had been generous.

Because, for the first time in his life, Rowan Whitethorn had committed a military crime, and he was currently being locked up for it. Ten days. One for each week he committed improper sexual conduct.

"Dude, did you hit on Lorcan or something? He’d totally lock you up for that kind of shit.”

Fen’s breathing was more steady now. Good for him. Rowan couldn’t have picked a worse person to bring the essentials so he could survive this hell.

“Yes, Fenrys. I was hitting on Lorcan. I don’t know what’s more enticing to me, his wife or the fact that he has a newborn kid.”

“But you did hit on someone.” Fenrys had crossed arms and narrowed eyes.

“Nope.”

He didn’t. He had a very lawful one-night stand with Aelin, then she threw herself at him and he fell for it hook, line and sinker, because that woman is a fucking Venus flytrap.

"You hit on Darrow?"

"I would not, under any circumstance, hit on Colonel Darrow."

Fen snorted. "His niece?”

Rowan flexed his jaw.

Fenrys' eyes widened.

"You totally hit on his niece." His mouth opened to speak, but he didn’t because his jaw completely fell. "No, you fucked his niece. She’s the reason you've been getting home late, isn’t she?"

Rowan’s hands were balled into fists. Thinking about everything he did because of that girl made his limbs twitch.

“Holy Mala.” It took a few seconds for Fenrys to have a proper reaction. “Man, that girl is related to two people. A colonel and the Brigadier. She's the forbidden fruits' forbidden fruit. Not even I am that dumb, and you know I love forbidden fruit."

"I knew it then.” He gestured around his cell. "And I clearly know it now.”

"I can't believe I was the proper instructor this entire time.”

Rowan closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath as he tried to not snap at his friend.

"You weren’t, under any circumstance—“

“I totally was. I can even go by Lieutenant Goody Two-Shoes.”

“Fenrys, I know you let the newbies play with the guns while quoting James Bond—”

“You’re just pissed I out-goody-two-shooed you.” Fenrys crossed his arms, but held a glazed look on his face. “God, I didn’t even hit on Galathynius’ boyfriend, trying not to fuck up.”

Rowan glared. “Can we please not talk about her boyfri—“

“Shit, man. Sorry. I didn’t know you liked her.”

“I don’t,” he hissed.

“You sure? I can totally steal her man if it’ll make you feel better.”

Rowan checked the bag Fenrys brought him. Everything he needed was there.

“Thank you, Fenrys,” he hinted while looking him in the eye. A clear dismissal.

It wasn’t his friend’s fault, though. Maybe Rowan would laugh about this with him someday, but not today.

Today, his thoughts were on the fact that Aelin Galathynius was the worst mistake of his fucking life. And wanting to never see her again was definitely the reason she came through the same door Fenrys left seconds before, guided by a sergeant.

He held a finger up before she could seat.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Aelin flinched, but sat anyway. “I need to talk to you.”

“Didn’t you talk enough with your uncles already?”

“About that…” Aelin scratched the back of her neck, cheeks flushing. “I did tell them we had a fling, why would you tell them the details?”

Rowan saw red. She knew damn well the reason that got him such bad punishment was the place it all happened, and there was no way she’d get to pretend she didn’t snitch him.

“Why would I lie to Darrow when he made it clear he knew everything? He’d just double my days here until I confessed.”

She slowly nodded, running both hands through her hair. “He told you he knew everything without telling you what everything means, showed you absolutely no proof of it, then you just confessed without questioning?”

“Yes.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Gods, Rowan, how can you be so stupid? You fell right into Darrow’s trap!”

“I thought you’d told him!”

“I didn’t tell him shit!”

Rowan rubbed his face and took a deep breath. “So how does he know?”

“About that.” Aelin’s face flushed, and she fidgeted with her fingers for a moment before continuing, “I didn’t get to do my exam last Friday, did you hear about that?”

Rowan nodded. “News ran fast. I thought you knew better than to be on drugs and in the military at the same time.”

It was easy to assume, since the tox screen is the main reason newbies don’t pass that stage. It was hard to believe Aelin would be so dumb, but he didn’t know her. After what happened today, Rowan came to the conclusion he didn’t know her at all.

“I don’t do drugs, I-“ she took a deep breath, and her vulnerable blue eyes worked like daggers pointed at him. “They didn’t let me do the physical exam because I’m pregnant.”

Objectively, this was a better reason than drugs. It didn’t feel like it, though.

She got rid of Rowan, got her dream job, and is starting a family while he got his career stained forever by this.

“Congratulations. Your boyfriend must be thrilled.”

Aelin flinched as if he’d slapped her, and that expression alone told him she didn’t know he knows she'd been dating someone while seeing him.

“Actually…” she swallowed. “Dorian has a vasectomy, and he wasn’t in town during the… possible conception days.” She cringed. “Biologically, you’re the father.”

Rowan’s eyes bulged, then his body froze completely.

Father.

He was going to be a father.

Time slowed down, and he couldn’t seem to believe his ears.

It was unexpected, of course, especially because of Aelin’s situation—

Wait a second.

“Did loverboy not want the baby? Is that why you’re here?”

Silence stretched for too long, and Rowan saw her surprised face morph into something else he hadn’t seen before on her.

“You know what, Rowan?” Aelin shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t need you for shit. I have my family’s support. I have money to raise a fuckton of children. If you’re waiting for me to crawl and beg you to do your fucking job, that’s not gonna happen.” She adjusted her purse around her shoulders and got up. “I’m having a baby. It has your genes. You can be as much of a dad you want, or not at all.”

Her words sent a new wave of heat through his body, making him stand as well to stop her.

Rowan would be a father to this kid, she would be sure of that. Even if he lived in an alternative universe where he didn’t want it, he would father the shit out of this kid just to piss Aelin off.

“Seriously? Do I look like some deadbeat dad to you?”

“I. Don’t. Know!” Aelin screamed. “I just got knocked up by a stranger!”

Rowan froze, letting that word sink in and start a riot inside his body.

Stranger? Stranger?

After seeking him out every goddamned evening for more than two months, she has the nerve to call him a stranger?

“What the fuck was this?” Rowan shouted. “Just a courtesy nod? Did you even expect anything from me before you came here?”

She didn’t answer.

Nowadays, it seemed like anything Aelin did made him ache. She had a point, though. They didn’t know each other very well. He still couldn’t believe she thought he’d abandon her in a situation like this.

“I don’t know!” Aelin groaned, pacing around the room and running both hands through her head. “I didn’t get much time to think. I thought maybe you’d want to see the kid every other weekend or—“

“Every other weekend?” He sneered. “Do I look like the every other weekend type to you?”

“Rowan, listen—“

“No, you listen. Don’t you come here telling me I’m becoming a father just to offer me every other weekend!” He crossed his arms, face flat. “I want to see your exams, all of them. I will be to every doctor appointment, I’ll make meal plans because I remember you telling me you survive on chocolate cake—“

“You don’t get to say a word about my chocolate cake!” She screamed, interrupting him. “Neither do you get to talk down to me! You don’t get to order me around, because I’m not a fucking surrogate mother you hired to bear your child!” Aelin paused, catching her breath while she leaned closer to him. “And whatever you decide, you’ll be lucky if I even tell you when the baby is due if you don’t treat me, the mother of your child, with respect. Do you hear me, Lieutenant?”

He did, but didn’t get to tell her so.

Aelin turned around and banged the door closed, leaving him alone to think about whatever the hell had just happened.

˜˜

“SAVE YOURSELF!” Maisie warned her best friend from the top of the playground tower as they played… something.

Like most weekends, Rowan and Lorcan took the kids to the playground in front of both of their houses, since their streets were perpendicular to one another. As much as he liked to pay attention to his daughter’s shenanigans, Rowan’s head was somewhere else today. The kids looked safe, and Lorcan was there watching them too. It would have to be enough for now.

"Am I supposed to give advice? Or just listen?"

Rowan sighed. He had just told Lorcan how he and Aelin were successfully doing that thing where they traumatized their daughter until she becomes an unruly teenager who drinks alcohol at school and smokes weed with a guitarist that pretends to be a feminist to make Rowan’s worst nightmares come true. No. This is stopping now.

Except that last Friday, when they left Maisie at Orlon’s to talk after that meeting, it was a shit show.

Rowan said it was her fault because she never listens to him. Aelin screamed that he is the one who never listens to her. Rowan replied, in a strident tone, that Maisie would be better off if he were only doing things his way like she claimed.

Things went extremely downhill from there. It was one of their most unproductive exchanges.

He dropped Maisie at Lorcan’s the next day to talk again, but she wasn’t home.

Now it was Sunday, and he could only hope Aelin would show up at the game watch party Aedion talked him into hosting.

"Advice.” Rowan was just that desperate.

Lorcan shrugged. "Ellie thinks family therapy would help. I agree with her."

"You always agree with her."

"She's always right, man."

Rowan sighed. Of course Elide would think that. She's a psychiatrist. These people think anything can be cured with a few hours of counseling.

"I think I'll stick to my initial plan."

"Your brilliant plan of not fighting?" Lorcan raised an eyebrow.

Rowan crossed his arms. "My brilliant plan of not provoking or letting myself be provoked. It's pure self-control.“ He shuffled his feet. ”I can do that."

"Your plan is shit."

"I don't need it to be perfect, I need it to work.”

“Okay.” Lorcan ran a hand through his hair. "But you think you'll manage to never have a fight with Aelin again after five years of unresolved shit?"

"Yes," Rowan said through gritted teeth. God, he was tired of explaining his perfectly laid-out plan.

He wasn’t saying it’d be easy. He knew he wouldn’t. But if refusing to fight didn’t work, Rowan had no idea what the fuck he’d do. Because the only other option would be to continue to hurt his little girl, and just the thought of it made his ribs close so tight it left a deep hollow inside him.

Just like clockwork, Aelin showed up at the playground holding a weird white thing. Maisie found her first, running her mother’s way and hugging her legs with a blissful smile on her face.

Aelin crouched to talk to the kids first, sending the adults a small wave from afar.

“Go.” Lorcan elbowed him. “I’ve got ‘em.”

Rowan nodded, rolled his shoulders and went their way. He couldn’t hear it from where he was initially at, but Maisie was telling her mom something.

“Is that right?” Aelin smiled. “Why do you love trees?”

“‘Cause they become toilet paper!” Her little limbs were excitedly waving in the air. “And if we didn’t have toilet paper, everyone would have dirty bums all the time.”

Rowan cleared his throat, and Maisie took a sharp turn his way.

“Daddy! I was teaching trees to mom.”

He clamped his lips together, since trying to look serious to his daughter was a skill he mastered a long time ago. Of course Maisie would learn something new at school and think she’s the only person in the world who knows that information.

“Yeah?” He swallowed, remembering what he needed to say. “Mais, why don’t you tell that to Uncle Lorcan while your mother and I talk for a second?”

Maisie’s limbs went limp by her side. Her little green eyes cautiously darted between the two of them.

Surprisingly enough, it was Lorcan’s kid who spoke on her behalf.

“I want to keep playing,” Charlie insisted, eyes furrowed.

“Yeah!” Maisie immediately backed him up, mirroring her best friend’s body language.

“Oh, but you will.” Aelin smiled at the kids’ protest. “Lorcan will stay here with you now, then you can play here until it’s time for the game.”

Maisie seemed content enough, but Lorcan’s son frowned. It was no secret that Charlie didn’t share his father’s love for sports.

“Dad and I already watched a game this week.”

“We’re watching another one,” Rowan explained.

Charlie huffed. “Who knows the ways of men?”

Rowan snorted, immediately recognizing the quote from Frozen 2.

The walk to his place was slower than it could’ve been if the reminder of what did and was about to happen wasn’t looming like a dark cloud above them.

“What’s that?” Rowan asked while fishing his keys out of his pocket.

“Oh.” Aelin’s eyebrow raised as if she’d just remembered she was carrying this white fabric all along. When she opened it, holding with both opened arms, it made even less sense.

“A table cloth?”

She grimaced. “I don’t have an actual white flag, and the napkin seemed too small for the occasion.”

Rowan felt a brittle patch of warmth underneath the whole turmoil he was feeling inside. This very literal white flag would probably be the closest thing to an apology he was ever getting, so he’d appreciate it.

After leading her to the kitchen, Rowan frowned at his table, considering his options, but handed her the cloth that was there.

“A light green flag?” Her eyebrows went up.

Rowan sighed. “My white cloths are either ruined or so far from Maisie’s reach I’ll need stairs to get them.”

Aelin snorted, a feeble smile on her face while she fumbled with his cloth, eyeing the juice stain in it from this morning.

“I went to your place yesterday.”

“Dorian and I threw a pity party. I would’ve stayed home if I knew you were coming, though.”

“It’s alright.” He bit the inside of his cheek and thinking of a good approach. “I figured out a plan to fix our… situation.”

“Go on.”

“We have to stop fighting.”

“I know.” Aelin gave him a firm nod “What’s your plan?”

“That’s it. We’ll stop fighting.”

“I—“ Aelin’s mouth closed. And opened. And closed again. “Rowan, you do realize how…” she trailed, carefully placing her words. “Flawed this plan is, right?”

“I think it’ll work.”

“Okay…” she ran a hand through her head, and Rowan worked to keep his breathing steady the long seconds she was just examining the walls and biting her lip. “Considering what you told me last Friday—“

“I said a lot of things I don’t mean last Friday.”

*I doubt that*, Aelin seemed to say with one wounded look she quickly concealed.

“You told me I don’t listen to you. I’ll try to get better at that.”

Rowan nodded, his eyes soft.

“We’ll try your plan, even if I don’t fully agree with it” she continued, “But if it doesn’t work, you’ll have to go along with my plan, okay?”

Aelin didn’t tell him what her plan was, but he agreed because there was no way it wouldn’t work. If neither of them provoked each other, there would be no fight. It was a logical thing, and it had already worked with them in the past.

His plan was foolproof.

“So it’s settled?”

“It’s settled.” Aelin said after a second of hesitancy. “We’ll restrain ourselves so we never have a fight again.”

“For Maisie.” Rowan extended a hand, and she shook it.

“For Maisie.”

They looked each other in the eye, holding each other’s hands for a little too long before she pulled it, reminding him of something.

“There’s this other thing I wanted to ask you.”

“Go on.”

“It’s about the wine thing. I’ve been thinking—”

She held a hand up to stop him. “Look, that meeting made it sound a lot worse than it actually is. It’s not a daily habit or anything. It’s just that…” Aelin pulled a chair and sat holding her head in one hand. She sighed. “Have you ever felt like you keep waiting your whole work day to end so you can be at home, but when you finally get home, you can’t stop thinking about work?”

Rowan frowned. He pulled another chair for himself and turned so he could face Aelin. Well, he used to feel like that. A lifetime ago, when he was working for the Air Force as an engineer. There was a reason he changed jobs, though. This week, the biggest headache he had was Lorcan getting pissed because one of the newbies was seen wearing regular sneakers at base.

“I thought you liked your job.”

“I do. I really do. I studied for almost a decade to be here, but sometimes I get home stressed out.” Aelin crossed her arms, not looking him in the eye. “Sometimes I’m just angry because a nurse did a shit job. Sometimes I have to tell a nineteen-year-old that just enlisted that they lost their leg while working. Sometimes I have to see some officer’s little kid completely fucked up because of some stupid shit and can’t stop thinking that it could’ve been Maisie.” Aelin’s voice broke in the end, so she stopped and looked at the ceiling. Taking deep breaths.

Rowan focused his whole being on every word she said, from the ache he felt to the pulse that seemed to beat on the rhythm of her words. He wanted to grasp every feeling she’d try to hide from him later. He wanted to ask her so many things. If any of this had been recent, why did she never mention any of it to him. He didn’t, though. He knew she wasn’t the type to open up easily, and he was scared to say anything that would shatter this fragile moment they were having.

“It’s never much, though.” Aelin continued, “And I’m never not present for Maisie. She was just extra interested because it’s the one thing in my kitchen she can’t have.”

“I still don’t know how I feel about this.” Rowan sighed. He wanted to at least sound more supportive after she opened up, but this conversation was still about their very little girl.

“That’s understandable.” Aelin slowly nodded, biting her lip and looking at a blank spot on the wall. “I can stop if it’s important to you.”

“Just on the days Maisie is with you,” he conceded. “Elide might have my head if you stop altogether.”

“Well, she already says you ruined her sex life. You can’t ruin Girls’ Night too.”

They let out a bittersweet chuckle, and something on Rowan’s chest eased to see Aelin in a slightly brighter mood. Also, to know they were having an actual conversation instead of screaming nonsense at each other.

“Can I ask you something too?”

“What?” He frowned.

“You asked me to stop drinking around Maisie. Now I want to ask you something too.”

“Oh…” Rowan trailed, scattering his brain for something he might’ve done wrong. “Go on.”

“I want you to take care of yourself,” Aelin’s tone was firm as she adjusted her posture and looked deep into his eyes.

Rowan’s mouth opened and closed before he spoke. “I take care of myself.”

“No, you keep yourself alive and take care of Maisie.” Aelin fidgeted with a beaded bracelet she made with their daughter. “I was hoping we could talk about what happened that other Friday.”

When he went to the hospital. Just mentioning it made his body temperature rise.

“That day was just a false alarm, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring this up again.”

Aelin looked as if he’d slapped her. Rowan would understand this reaction if he was truly denying something after she opened up to him, but that was not the case.

Honestly? He blamed Cortland for implying that Rowan had anxiety in front of Aelin. The doctor was just bitter after things ended with her, and said that to make him look bad. That was the only explanation.

Rowan doesn’t have a disorder. He’s just a concerned father who had an erratic heartbeat after a stressful moment. It’s merely being human.

“Okay…” Aelin nodded. “It’s not just about that day.” She took a deep breath and fully turned to him. “Remember that day when Maisie got sick and you called me asking how to give her the meds? Because you couldn’t read the leaflet?”

It had been three, maybe four months ago. Rowan crossed his arms. “What about it?”

“Did you go to the eye doctor?”

”I’m fine.” He crossed his arms. “That leaflet’s font was just too small.”

“Unlock your phone.”

“What?”

“Do it.”

He did it, letting her quickly examine his screen before she looked back at him with raised eyebrows.

“What?”

“The size of the text on your phone is so big I could read it from across the street. This is not a screen of someone who has good reading vision.”

Rowan gaped, not knowing what to say and wondering how she came up with this. Fuck, maybe Aelin was why Maisie was a smartie, as she liked to say herself.

His eyes widened with the realization of something.

“Do you think that’s why Maisie’s struggling to read? Because she need an eye doctor?”

Aelin’s jaw went slack. “Can you hear yourself?” Rowan blinked, not understanding, and she rolled her eyes. “You can’t focus on yourself for twenty seconds before making it about Maisie, Rowan. No, that’s not the reason she can’t read. The teacher said she can recognize letters, remember?”

“Yeah, she did.” He sighed, shoulders relaxing. “So it’s settled. You’ll stop drinking when Maisie is at your place. I’ll see the eye doctor.”

”Actually, the eye doctor was just an example.”

“Do you want me to go to the eye doctor or not?”

“It’s not about me wanting something, Rowan, you should…” she took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know what? Okay. No fights, no wine, you’ll go to the eye doctor.”

“We got this.” They firmly shook each other’s hands again to seal this new phase.

˜˜

The living room had seven adults, and the only way they could keep an eye on the children and watch the game at the same time was by placing the play mat between the couch and the TV.

He complained at first when Aedion invited the whole crew to watch the game at Rowan’s house, but he didn’t mind now. In fact, he even liked it. Not only it was a good distraction from this hellish weekend, but it was also entertaining to see Fenrys getting pissed because he missed a goal when he went to the kitchen.

Aedion suggested Fenrys brings bad luck to the game, since the only goal has been while he was away. No one disagreed.

While Charlie was there just to play and because his parents made him, Maisie had her attention divided between her friend and the game. As much attention as a four-year-old could have, actually.

Rowan didn’t know if Maisie actually liked soccer or if she just picked up on her family’s excitement every time an important game is on, but he loved it anyway. Today, he even asked Aelin to come earlier so she could braid Maisie’s hair with ribbons on the team’s color. Rowan sighed. Every time he learned a new hairstyle, his daughter came up with something even more elaborate. It took him almost a month to get the french braid right, but now Maisie wanted it with ribbons.

She looked so damn cute with it, though. He’d probably end up on another Youtube tutorial.

Besides, a smile crosses Rowan’s face every time she wears the Doranelle White Hawks jersey he buys whenever she grows out of one.

”NO!” Maisie screamed, dramatically raising her hands and surprising them all. “Keep your eye on the pie!”

“It’s prize, Munchkin,” Fenrys corrected around a smile, but his eyes were still glued to the TV.

“That’s what I said,” the little girl defended herself, eyes narrowed at her uncle.

Unable to restrain himself and respect his preschooler’s drive for independence, Rowan picked his daughter up and smacked a kiss on her cheek. Luckily, she just giggled and nestled in his lap.

“I’ll be right back,” Fenrys announced and left the room.

The second he closed the bathroom door shut, Athril seized the ball and started to run towards the goal.

“OH MY GOD,” Elide exclaimed, and Lorcan rubbed her upper arm without looking away from the TV.

“WHAT?” Fen screamed from the bathroom.

“DON’T LET HIM OUT!” Aedion roared, pointing a finger in the bathroom’s direction.

Rowan wasn’t one for sports superstition, but he wouldn’t object.

Dorian got up and went the bathroom’s way so fast he stumbled and almost fell, but never gave up. He stood there, holding the handle from one side while Fenrys banged on the door from the other.

“LET ME OUT! I WANT TO SEE THE GAME!” Fen screamed, but one one listened.

It was hard to pay attention on anything else than Athril dribbling each and every one of his opponents, showing off his skills until—

“GOOOOAL,” they screamed in unison, getting up from their seats to cheer.

Fenrys came back running, but instead of complaining, he lit up when he saw the goal’s replay. Picking Dorian up, he cheered alongside everyone else.

Maisie was screaming and twirling on the floor, and even little Charlie looked content. Also, Rowan didn’t miss it the way his daughter tugged on her mother’s leg, whispered something in her ear, and then Aelin left for the kitchen.

“What did Mais want?” He asked after following her.

“Just sandwiches for her and Charlie.”

Rowan nodded, pointed at the bread on his counter and opened the fridge to get the other ingredients.

“Why don’t you throw this away?”

Aelin was frowning at the bread pack. Her hand was going over the first slice of the loaf of bread, picking the other ones the kids would accept.

“What?”

“This crusty slice of bread.”

“Are you bothered by it?”

Sighing, she turned to him. “Actually, yes. It’s like this whole barrier I have to go through before getting to the slice of bread Maisie will eat.”

“Maybe I just don’t throw things away as easily as you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You just told me to throw away not one, but the two ends of the bread just because it looks too crusty to you.“ Rowan shrugged. ”I don’t like throwing food away just because.”

“But you won’t eat it!” Aelin’s tone was gradually rising. “You won’t eat the slice, you’ll just break it in crumbs as you go over it to reach for the other slices, and it’ll end up in the trash anyway!”

“Why do you hate the crusty slice so bad?” His jaw was already set by this point, eyes shooting daggers at her.

“Because I don’t like crusty bread!” Aelin screamed. “I like my bread fluffy and comfortable! Why in hell would I settle for crusty bread?”

Rowan felt his blood ringing in his ears. “Well, maybe I don’t want another slice of bread! Maybe I want my crusty bread because it’s mine! Flawed as it is.”

“You’re not even eating that fucking slice! You’re just stringing it along, inside your little bread pack, until it breaks completely and you inevitably throw it away.” Aelin was gesticulating each time more, coming closer to him as well.

Rowan crossed his arms. “I would never throw my slice of bread away. And if you think—“

“Oh, really? Then what did you do to all the other crusty slices from your other packs?”

“THEY’RE IN HIS MAMA’S ASS,” Elide interrupted, voice louder than any of them as she banged the kitchen’s door closed. “Are you two serious right now?”

Rowan’s frenetic heart seemed to sink into his stomach.

Their agreement to never fight ever again had lasted five hours.

He bowed his head, refusing to meet any of the women in the eye. He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking of something to say, even though he knew he should be apologizing.

“I’ll finish the sandwiches, you can—“

Elide crossed her arms. “No, I am making the sandwiches, because you are so busy screaming at each other you forgot to feed the kids.” She shook her head, cursing under her breath. “Now you two will go sit at opposite ends of the living room because I ain’t going anywhere before the White Hawks win, so you’ll have to behave for once. Understood?”

“Sure,” Aelin mumbled. Rowan still wouldn’t look at her.

He nodded.

After they went to the living room, everything seemed normal. Everyone acted like nothing had happened, but Rowan knew better.

No matter what the subject was, he always felt the same after fighting with Aelin. The heated skin, tense muscles, replaying arguments inside his head.

It felt different this time.

After this fight, he felt nothing but shame.

TAG LIST (tell me if you want to be added or removed!)

@aelinchocolatelover

@autumnbabylon

@bookcide

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@courtofjurdan

@dreamer-133

@elentiyawhitethorn

@elizarikaallen

@fangirlprincess09

@goddess-aelin

@gracie-rosee

@leiawritesstories

@renxzs

@rowanaelinn

@superspiritfestival

@swankii-art-teacher

@s-uppertime

@thegreyj

@violet-mermaid7

@wishfulimaginings

[sarahjmaasbooktalks]

Why Rowan Whitethorn is my favorite SJM Male

Okay, this might be an unpopular opinion (might, I know it's not the most unpopular), but Rowan Whitethorn is my favorite SJM male, and in my top two of book men in general.

Now I know, he does do a lot wrong to Aelin in Heir of Fire, and that's inexcusable. I'm not going to come on here, and tell you that he had any right to say or do anything he did in the beginning of that book. However, if it really really bothers you after reading the full series, and seeing how he changes, you might not like enemies to lovers because that's what the trope really is about LOL. But I will admit, it's inexcusable, so I don't want any of you in the comments saying I'm okaying his behavior because I'M NOT.

Anyway, I had to say that before people be rude.

So the reason why he's one of my favorites ever and my favorite SJM male is because of the clear growth he had by the end of the series. This growth is kind of nonexistent for the men of ACOTAR, and CC is an incomplete series with only three books, so I'll give it some more time. ACOTAR has had nearly five books, and no male has had a significant character arc since then so I will be judging there.

To highlight the growth of Rowan, I will share two quotes from the series at different points in his character development.

Heir of Fire:

"There is nothing that I can give you. Nothing I want to give you. You are not owed an explanation for what I do outside of training. I don't care what you have been through or what you want to do with your life. The sooner you can sort out your whining and self-pity, the sooner I can be rid of you. You are nothing to me. and I don't care."

Empire of Storms:

"I love you. There is no limit to what I can give to you, no time I need. Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you."

In my opinion, this clearly shows his growth from being indifferent and hateful towards her to literally searching for months to get her back. Unlike the men of ACOTAR who say they love let's say Feyre or Nesta who lie to them about their fate, or take them on a su1c1de mountain hike as a punishment, he actually grows and changes throughout the stories.

Once he figures out everything Aelin has been through, he stops. He acknowledges what he did was wrong, and makes up for it in spades (rescuing Dorian, going to save her from Maeve, becoming her carranam *i don't know if I spelled that right* to save her from the valg in Heir of Fire).

I'm not sitting here saying that no other SJM male has done anything for their mates because that would be wrong. But, the fact that Rowan started as absolutely despising her to going to the ends of the world to find her just makes my heart swoon.

They quite literally healed each other, and in my opinion are more well suited for each other than let's say Nesta and Cassian are.

So yeah, part of this might not have made much sense, but I just needed to get out how much I love my buzzard bye-

[justreadertings]

Sweet Understanding: A Rowaelin love story- Part 4

AN: Once again I’m apologizing at the beginning of a fic... what’s new? Writing is hard when it’s so gloomy. Midwest Magee is STRUGGLING. But I’m here now, and I’ve got some words for you! I hope you enjoy... it’s only gonna get more complicated hehehe- Magee

3210 words

Loosely based on the song Suddenly Seymor. Mentions of domestic abuse, violence, swearing, drugs, death, sex, NSFW.

Part 4

Rowan was trying not to kill his friends, trying not to let his bad mood ruin their night, trying not to drink too much. Forcing himself not to leave because he knew how excited Aelin was. Or… Celanea. He would have to be careful to call her Celaenea here. 

He was just watching his friends play pool, sitting on the sticky, uncomfortable bar stool. The benches were much nicer. 

Gods, he just wanted to go home. He’d been here an hour already, and all of his friends had readily assessed his bruised hands, but said nothing. They were always doing that, and though Rowan probably did the exact same thing, it still pissed him off. 

They knew to stay mostly away from him. He’d forced himself here- only for her. She seemed so excited. Rowan had to stop himself from glancing at the door every second. Knowing that she was alone with him right now… it made his stomach turn. He didn’t know how he had the emotion left in him but- he did. And it was making him sick.

“Whitethorn’s not gonna play. He’s brooding.” Rowan tuned back in to hear Fenrys chirp.

Vaughn slid Lorcan another drink, that he shot back before he handed his pool cue to his girlfriend. She smirked, and shot two balls in the hole.

“He’s waiting for his girlfriend,” his partner grunted. Elide jabbed him in the rib with her cue, and he coughed.

“Knock it off,” Rowan warned, voice gruff. He knew he was in a shit mood but… Lorcan couldn’t say shit like that. “Her boyfriend's coming.”

Fenrys’ eyes shot up. “That dick you arrested?”

Rowan’s mood soured even more. “That’s the one.”

His friends all exchanged looks, then quietly got back to their game. 

Elide told him, “I’m excited to meet her. She sounds like she could use a girlfriend.” Rowan nodded, grateful for the woman. He didn’t know how Lorcan’s miserable ass got a girl so wonderful. She did have a temper, he knew, but she was very kind. Smart, too. Too good to hang around them.

And just when he was about to tell his friends that, there they were. Aelin and Cairn. Rowan remembered what a terrible idea this was. He waited for the moment he would recognize them. 

But Cairn just shrugged when Aelin told him something, then went to the bar. She watched him for a moment, then her face shifted, a smile forming on her face. A fake smile. Even so, she looked gorgeous. For just getting a few drinks and watching a game, she was all dressed up. A long sleeved, low cut top. Dark blue to highlight her eyes. Jeans that hugged her curves beautifully. He cursed himself for looking but… damn. She’d fluffed up her hair, had swabbed something dark around her eyes, and had on pretty lipgloss.

He couldn’t stop looking at her.

“Hi,” she said, stealing the seat next to him. Her quick eyes flashed to his hands, squinting. He only nudged her chin with his knuckle, trying to avert her gaze.

At the gesture, a flush overtook her face. She waved, albeit awkwardly, to his friends. They all waved back, except Lorcan, and Rowan was hoping she didn’t pick up on their group assessment of her. To quote her, constantly: “Fucking cops.”

But she didn’t bat an eye. She only had eyes on the game, even as her fingers worked the skin of her thumb. Rowan couldn’t resist the urge to assess her either. Of course, he was looking to make sure she was unbruised. That she was ok. 

Her wicked eyes turned to him. “Looking for something?”

His eyebrows raised, but right when he was about to come back with a flirt that was probably inappropriate for how little they’d discussed their relationship- a hand snaked around her shoulder. Rowan nearly jolted from how unexpected it was. How had he not seen him? He must have been distracted.

Cairn looked him up and down, and Rowan tried not to focus on how tense Aelin seemed. Tried not to look too interested in her. It was hard to conceal, he was learning. 

“Who’s this?” the man asked.

It seemed him, and all his friends took a collective sigh. He didn’t remember. Gods, he was out of his mind that night, more than they thought if he didn’t even remember any of them. Rowan shuddered to think of what he must have been like behind closed doors. 

“Rowan,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “Whitethorn.”

Cairn watched him for a moment more, then nodded. His eyes shot up to the game. “Castle fan?” He asked, sipping on his beer.

Rowan tried to play it cool, though it felt like all of his emotions were just humming right up against his skin. “Ghost Leopard. I’m all for Terrasen.”

Aelin’s eyes were tracking her feet, but a smile ghosted her lips. 

Rowan wished he could capture it, hold that fragile smile to him. He wondered if she knew how wonderful it looked upon her face. But it quickly slipped away when Cairn huffed. “Figures,” he said. “You’ll just encourage her.” Her smile disappeared.

Rowan caught Aelin’s eye. It seemed like it was going to be a long, long night.

-

They had stopped playing, and were now all in a big booth, watching the game. Rowan and his friends had ordered food. Cairn had ordered another beer. Aelin hadn’t ordered anything. 

But she still had a smile on her face when she was watching her game. It was pretty close, but they were only in the third quarter. His friends were split between being Adarlan Castle fans, and Ghost Leopard fans. They’d made petty comments to each other all night, and Rowan was honestly in a better mood. He knew he was just pacified, but it was better than nothing. 

Elide and Aelin had spoken a bit, and he was glad for it. She’d told him that she didn’t have many friends. He was grateful for her to have a girlfriend.

“You know, if we win this game, we might qualify this year,” Elide told her, sipping on her whiskey. 

Aelin nodded, eyes on the game. “Yeah, well, if I keep my mouth shut and don’t jinx us… perhaps we will.” 

Cairn snorted at that, and for the millionth time that night, Rowan’s friends tried to ignore it. He thought his friends would have better poker faces than they did. 

Elide was the only one with a blank expression. She kept her steady eyes on Aelin. “Well your mouth better not jinx us,” she winked at Fenrys. “Or I’ll owe pretty boy fifty bucks.”

Aelin opened her mouth to say something back, but Cairn shushed her. Literally shushed her. He took another swing of his beer. “Her mouth has a lot of uses. Too bad it talks so much.” He slung his arm around Aelin. “Right, babe?”

Aelin’s whole expression turned quiet. Reserved. She just drank her water, eyes glazed. 

Rowan was trying very, very hard not to strangle the man. Their entire table was unable to hide their discomfort. Both for the insinuation and how little he seemed to pick up on social cues. Elide shot Rowan a look that he interpreted as: do something. But before he could even get anything out to ease the tension, to get Aelin away from him, he was startled by her own laugh.

Aelin nudged Elide with her elbow, the smile on her face so fucking fake he could hardly stand it. “You bet fifty bucks on our team?” Something shaded over her eyes, though, when she said, “It sounds like you’re betting against yourself.”

Elide, the perceptive thing, just stared at her back. “Yeah. It seems a lot of that goes on around here.” Her words were telling, and Rowan watched Aelin understand the woman’s tone. Rowan saw the instant Aelin became guarded. She grabbed her purse.

“I’m gonna run to the restroom,” she said, already shuffling out of the booth. Rowan watched her restrained expression carefully. But before she could fully get up, Cairn grabbed her face, kissing her deeply, inappropriately for the setting.

Rowan knew in that instant that he couldn’t handle it. That when she’d asked him earlier that day his answer was a fucking lie. Because he knew what she looked like- what her body looked like- when he kissed her. And it didn’t lock up like that with Cairn. She was a statue.

Just standing there. Taking it. 

When he released her, he just sat back against the booth, back to sipping on his beer.

Aelin watched the creep for a moment, like a beautiful sculpture, captured in a moment of confusion. She was such a burning force, that it made his whole chest clench with discomfort watching her be so still. Something swam in her eyes that he could not decipher. 

She was gone a moment later. Rowan tried not to watch her leave, tried to think of anything else. He realized quickly that he had two options: kill Aelin’s boyfriend before she came back to the table, or excuse himself. He chose the latter.

“I’m getting a bourbon.”

He felt his friend's eyes burn into his back, but only continued forward. Vaughn tracked him too, as he began to pour Rowan’s usual, just as nosy as a cop. But Rowan wasn’t looking for a therapy session.

“She’s got fire,” Vaughn said. Well, apparently Rowan was getting one.

He grabbed his drink, eyes on the bathroom door where she’d shut herself in. Away from everyone. “Something like that.”

His friend was quiet for a moment, before, “She’s pretty.”

“Then you date her.”

At that, Vaughn laughed. “Not my type.” Rowan shared an eye roll with his friend, who had famously been in love with Fenrys’ twin, Connell, for about… two years? Maybe three. “Her boyfriend-”

“Needs a good punch in the mouth? Yeah. I got that.” Rowan’s gaze could burn a hole through the booth for how intensely he was staring at it. When he turned, he found his friend’s dark brows raised in amusement.

 “I was going to say he was on his way to being drunk.” He quirked a smile. “But that’s as good of an answer as any.” Rowan was all done with this character analysis. Especially when he began to walk away, he heard Vaughn say, “Very telling.”

Rowan was really, really done with that night. He was starting to think that bringing Aelin into his life was a mistake.

-

Aelin was starting to think- no, she was starting to accept- that this had been a terrible idea. What was she thinking? Going out with Rowan and his friends like she was… normal. Like she wasn’t connected by about twenty years of secrets to a psychopath, like she wasn’t hiding from the world. She couldn’t just go get drinks and watch her game. That life belonged to a woman who didn’t make mistakes like she did. Maybe Aelin could have enjoyed that life.

But Celeana couldn’t. It would do her good to remember who she was in Dornelle.

She rubbed her face, trying to avoid her eyes. She hadn’t spent time on makeup in… months, and she didn’t want to ruin it. Celeana realized how pathetic it was. She’d been so excited for tonight. She’d actually dressed up, made herself feel pretty. Her eyes swept up to the mirror. The tiredness that had briefly left her when she’d gotten dressed was back.

Even when Cairn had seen her outfit and mocked her, she hadn’t let it get to her. She’d made herself feel so good for this, had worked this night up so much in her head she hadn’t prepared herself for the realities of what might actually happen.

But she had to accept it. Celaena closed her eyes, then turned the knob. If she was gone for that long, it would be suspicious to him. And she didn't need Rowan to be up in her business, with that… look on his face. She didn’t miss his eyes when she’d excused herself. The bastard saw too much.

So she breathed in her nose and out of her mouth, a trick she’d learned from… him. She blocked out the image of his brown hair, his pretty brown eyes. And her mood was ruined even further. Celaena reminded herself to stop thinking of herself as the victim. When it came to him, she had no one to blame but herself. 

-

Rowan was a bit tipsier than she thought he realized. 

When she came back from the bathroom, she’d seen a bourbon in his hand, and she tilted her head at it, at his carefree smile. Something like fondness wormed its way into her chest, even when she was ready to block him out completely. She did not deserve that worrying look, the invitations and acceptance of her. If he knew what she was actually like, the things she’d done…

“Another bourbon for the man!” Cairn yelled over her shoulder. She grimaced.

Cairn was completely drunk now, his words slurring. She didn’t know what his play was in trying to get Rowan the same way. But it scared her.

She focused on her water, sipping. She suddenly felt both overwhelmed and alone all at once. 

“You know what I want?” Her boyfriend’s loud voice nearly blew out her ears. She slowly turned her attention to him. 

“What’s that?” She asked. 

“I want wings!” Cairn adjusted his body in the big booth, bumping into her. “And so do you, babe,” he slurred, grabbing her around the shoulders. A smile was plastered on his face, and he was still basically screaming. “Put some meat on those bones.”

Celaena swallowed, fighting every urge to just close her eyes. She hated when he commented on her body. She was always either too big, too little. Like he was fucking goldilocks and she was never just right. 

Rowan tilted his head at Cairn. “You should go get some.” A little bit of ire rang in his voice.

Cairn slapped him on the shoulder, as if this were the greatest idea of the century. 

“You want some of my fries, Leana?” 

She turned to the pretty blonde who had managed to make her laugh a few times that night. Something paused in her body when he used a nickname for her. She felt so beautifully normal then. 

Celaena felt herself smile. “I might like a few.”

Fenrys moved the basket to the middle of the table while Cairn went to get himself wings. Celaena started snacking on them, not realizing that she was, in fact, hungry. Her eyes caught on the commercials, and she tried to block out Cairn’s loud, loud voice. She was starting to get worried he was going to get out of control. But she was brought back to the table when her hand bumped someone else's in the fry basket. 

Her eyes caught Rowan’s, across from her. Her chest grew tight when he looked at her. Like she was pretty. Like he wanted her.

It took everything in her to not let her eyes say: I want you, too. The more you stare at me, the more I want you.

But she couldn’t say that. So she settled for a small smile and tried to avoid setting the table on fire with the sparks between their hands. Celaena went to put her hands in her lap, but Rowan just pushed the basket towards her. 

“I’m done,” he told her. But she knew. He wanted her to have them and not get herself in trouble. 

I want you. I want you more than I thought was possible. How did I hate you? She curled her hands to keep them to herself.

“Wait a minute!”

She turned her head from the booth. From the bar, Cairn was pointing to their table. Celaena tensed. He had another beer in his hands. She began to hear her own heartbeat in her ears.

“You!” Cairn began to walk closer to the table. She felt Elide’s arm move to settle on the table. She realized what it was. A barrier. For Celaena to get out, she’d have to get past Elide’s arm. And she didn’t think the petite woman would let her go gently. 

He grabbed Rowan’s shoulder, and Celaena’s heart jumped to her throat. “You’re the one! The guy!” Her hands shook under the table.

Cairn whirred around to point at Lorcan and Fenrys, who were just as tense as Rowan was. Well… she wasn’t as concerned about them ripping his hand off. But Rowan… she wasn’t sure.

“And you!” He slurred. “You’re all the cops! The bastards who arrested me!”

Celaena was standing up on the booth then, stepping over Elide’s arms. She grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “No,” she said, trying to get his hazy vision to focus on her. “No they weren’t.”

He shook a bit, wobbling. He kept looking back and forth between them. Celeana’s hands were firm on his shoulders. “They weren’t, babe. They weren’t. Remember?”

“Are you lying to me?” Cairn asked, voice dark. His breath reeked of alcohol on her face. At that point, Rowan was a wall behind her. She could feel him, his presence. But still, he didn’t touch her.

“You were in Mistward when that happened,” she said, voice calm. Cairn leaned further into her, invading her space. She could feel the table’s eyes on them. Warmth flooded her face, but she kept unyielding. “Remember.”

Carin squinted at the table, at the people she desperately wanted to call her friends. “Yeah,” he finally agreed. She could feel the room exhale. 

Celeana closed her eyes for just a moment, but she finally made herself turn to them. She couldn’t bear to look at Rowan. “I think we’re gonna go,” she said. She tried to remember how amazing the good parts of this night felt. She tried to say it was good enough, that these few hours were enough. 

“Why don’t you stay until the end of the game?” Elide asked her. Celaena felt as if Elide were trying to tie a lasso around her and pull her into her bubble. She wished she could be caught. 

“I don’t think so,” she said. “But thank you.” Celaena grabbed her jacket, and handed Cairn his. The room’s energy was so different now. 

But as she was turning around, Rowan’s voice caught her. “Let me know when you get home safe.” 

Hidden from his eyes, Cairn’s eyes, the table’s eyes, she let a soft smile cross her face. She finally turned, looking up at him. His whole body was telling her not to go. She could have sworn she heard his voice in his eyes. 

Don’t go home with him. Not while he’s drunk.

But she couldn’t tell him all the reasons why that was impossible. So she said the only thing she could. 

“I will,” she promised.

-

Aelin left two minutes before the Ghost Leopards scored the winning goal. Rowan left two minutes after that. He didn’t want to have the conversation with his friends about all the reasons why Aelin leaving with Cairn made Rowan want to throw up. 

Why yes, I do love angst. And no, I am NOT going to stop!- Magee

Taglist:

@leiawritesstories​

@tomtenadia​

@fireheart-violet​

@backtobl4ck​

@morganofthewildfire​

@rowaelinismyotp​

@aelinchocolatelover​

@thegreyj​

@foughtconquered​

@swankii-art-teacher​

@booklover242​

@stardelia​

@numbers-colors-fashion​

@bookcide​

@viajandosinalas​

@rowanaelinn​

@elentiyawhitethorn​

@emily-gsh​

@athena127​

[live-the-fangirl-life]

The Best Way to Spread Christmas Cheer…

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn

“The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear.” / “do not go quoting Elf on me.”

Better late than never, happy @rowaelinyulemasswap to @thegreyj

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Wintery Collection

1752 words

*******

It was like they’d been dropped in the middle of a snow globe.

A festive, charming, cold enough to see your breath but not so cold to be miserable holiday snow globe. Truly, in Aelin’s opinion, it won the certified hallmark stamp of approval. All the houses were decorated with lights; some white and shimmering, others flashing a rainbow’s worth of soft glows on the freshly fallen snow. Through open windows, shone lit up Christmas trees and candles burning low in their menorahs. Even the lawns were spotted with snowmen dressed in hats and scarves with carrots hanging off their smiling faces. All the picturesque details were there, right down to the group of carolers parading down the street.

Especially the group of carolers parading down the street.

Maybe she was biased, but as she closed the lyric book in her hand and walked with her group to the next door, Aelin decidedly put carolers at the top of her holiday cheer list.

“Shit.”

The man whose foot just lost its battle to a pile of snow didn’t seem to agree.

Flashing him a grin she knew would only annoy him further, Aelin walked past him as he aggressively shook the snow off his boot. “Lighten up, Whitethorn. A little snow won’t hurt you.”

She heard him grumble something under his breath which she chose to ignore and felt the corner of her mouth twitch up.

It wasn’t until they’d stopped walking and settled themselves in front of the next house that she got a better look at him.

The way the snow was falling, flurries landed on Rowan’s deep green hat just long enough to look intentionally placed on the woven threads before melting away, leaving tiny, darkened patches of dampness behind. Aelin was only half paying attention to the song when she caught his eye. He scowled…but it wasn’t cold. Not like she assumed his foot was.

Aelin wasn’t entirely sure why he was subjecting himself to this if he so obviously disliked it.

But his agitation was her delight.

The more he visibly objected to their outing, the more amused Aelin grew. For each house with its amateurly hung lights that blinked a little too fast and doors answered by people who clearly had one too many cups of eggnog, Rowan became more and more touchy – which only made Aelin lean into the spectacle that much further.

She thought she caught the corner of Rowan’s mouth curl up in a smirk after one of her quiet jabs about their ringleader’s overenthusiasm – bless Lysandra’s patience – but she chalked that up to the glittering lights, their glow dancing across his face and highlighting the sharp planes. It drew her attention like how any sudden movement draws attention; involuntarily.

With every house they passed, it was involuntary.

The few of them had been out walking for nearly an hour when Aelin finally nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. They were standing in the back of the group, so she was able to lean over and whisper without interrupting the song.

“Come on, Whitethorn,” she turned her chin up to meet his gaze and smirked. “The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear.”

He gave up all pretense of looking half-involved and narrowed his eyes at her before deadpanning, “Do not go quoting Elf on me.”

Snorting quietly, Aelin watched Rowan roll his eyes and huff. He was either exasperated or amused, she wasn’t sure which. Maybe both? Probably both.

With an over-exaggerated flip of his book, Rowan found the music sheet the group was currently on. And then with a shake of his head, he joined in.

She found herself standing next to him most of the time despite the clear instructions they’d all been given:

All you tall people in the back, we don’t need you blocking our vertically challenged friends from view –

and,

Please, for the love of God – don’t look at me like that Moonbeam, I know she’d agree with me – tell me you know what part you can sing? Sopranos stand with sopranos, Tenors over there, and my tone-deaf lovelies just fade into the background.

But, Aelin would fall back claiming the sidewalk was too icy up at the front. Rowan would step forward saying the walkway hadn’t fully been shoveled in the back.

She bit back her surprise as he started singing without argument and allowed herself a second or two to listen to his strong Baritone. His voice Steadily rose to match everyone else in volume so it wouldn’t be too obvious he hadn’t been singing from the start. When he side-eyed her and jerked his head to the book in her hands with a look that screamed if I have to do this then so do you, Aelin flashed him a grin and rejoined the chorus.

If Rowan dropped a note when she smiled at him, that was his business.

If Aelin missed a syllable when he returned it, that was hers.

“You’re cute when you sing off-key.” The words escaped her before she could even process the thought.

PAUSE.

REWIND.

“Caroling?”

The bright green sign tacked up to the bulletin board in the middle of the breakroom was hard to miss. Especially as it advertised in big, bold letters the optional holiday caroling the office would be sponsoring.

“Yes,” Lysandra smirked behind a stack of flyers in her hand. “Caroling.”

Arching a brow as she leaned against the counter, Aelin sipped her steaming mug of coffee and narrowed her eyes at her friend.

“Why? Where? When? Why?” The blonde ticked off a finger with each question, “Again, why?”

“Can you be a little more specific?”

Huffing, Aelin pushed away from the counter and jerked her head towards her office. Lysandra followed in step. “Why are we being asked to go caroling? Where is this supposed to be happening? When are we expected to do this? Why would I voluntarily spend more time with people I work with? Why do you look like you’re behind this?”

Aelin’s office was nice. One wall was entirely made of windows that let in the sunlight without feeling like she was sitting in it for eight hours, and she could see the snow-covered streets below. There was enough room to have comfortable seats opposite her desk, and there, directly across from her open door, was another office belonging to one Rowan Whitethorn. But that was irrelevant.

Lysandra took her usual seat in one of the light green chairs and finally answered.

“To spread holiday cheer,” she held up her fingers, teasing Aelin about her own gesture a minute ago. “From Orynth Street to Rifthold Avenue. Next week – a week from yesterday, actually. Because anyone who volunteers will get an extra half vacation day, now shush – that’s supposed to be a secret incentive. Because I am behind this…and I get a full vacation day.”

It wouldn’t be the worst thing. Aelin wasn’t really sure why she was hesitating; it wasn’t like she had a grudge against the holidays. On the contrary, she adored this time of year. And all the songs were well-known classics, arguably too well-known. And she could always use more vacation hours.

…And she might be able to see a certain coworker in a different element, which could either go really well or really horribly.

“Okay, I’ll go caroling,” Aelin agreed, laughing as Lysandra fist-bumped the air before flinging herself out of the chair and walking backward out of Aelin’s office. “Hey, do you need help recruiting people?”

The brunette’s high ponytail swung around, hitting Aelin’s doorframe as she nodded her head. “Yes, please, thank you!”

And with that, Lysandra left, and Aelin mentally prepared herself for whatever the hell she’d just got herself into.

FAST FORWARD.

RESUME.

Rowan stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to face her with an arched brow. “Did you just call me cute?”

Aelin blinked as she realized what she’d just said. She saw the shock on Rowan’s face dissolve into light amusement and a small smirk play at his lips the longer she sputtered for a response. It was the damned smirk that snapped her back to life, scoffing, and hoping her face didn’t look as hot as it felt.

“I think I complained about your unfortunate singing.” She put as much bravado behind the remark as she could and made to walk around him.

Despite their often-heated bickering and petty rivalries that her other coworkers, *cough* *cough* Lysandra, always seemed to have some sort of ‘agonizing sexual tension’ or ‘just kiss already’ comment about, neither she nor Rowan had crossed that line. The one that let them simmer in held gazes and lingering touches without worrying anything about the whys.

They had an unspoken understanding that she’d just broken with one tiny, stupid, accurate word.

Rowan put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from walking away. She lifted her chin and caught his eye, daring him to make some smart comment. She readied herself for it as the smirk on his face grew, even as she was both thrilled and annoyed at herself for being thrilled that he wasn’t going to let her brush it off.

“I heard that part,” he huffed, and a white cloud of breath floated between them. “Before that – what did you say?”

Their group had nearly rounded the corner of the block but neither paid the carolers any attention.

“I think your hearing is as bad as your singing.” Aelin tried to argue as she glanced away from him. But Rowan pulled her attention back by tugging on one of the strings hanging from the side of her hat. “I didn’t say you’re cute,” she huffed at his raised brow, “I said…I said – oh shoot!”

He hummed, entirely unconvinced. That was fair, she wouldn’t have believed her lame-ass excuse either. He was quiet for a moment, searching her face for something before his mouth tugged up again, apparently finding whatever he was looking for. “Hmm, well,” the falling snow picked up a little faster and more flakes dusted her face as Aelin waited for Rowan to continue. “You are too.”

Aelin blinked, a small smile creeping across her face as Rowan grinned at her, gave her hat one more tug, and turned around to see her as he began walking backward down the sidewalk. Her smile grew until—

“Hey!” she huffed, “I do not sing out of key!”

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @a-frog-with-a-laptop @astra-ad-mare @autumnbabylon @backtobl4ck @bankerfrog @becarefuloflove @camerooonchiu @captain-swan-is-endgame @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @doubt-less @earthtolinds @elentiyawhitethorn @feyretales @goddess-aelin @highqueenofelfhame @jorjy-jo @julemmaes @leiawritesstories @lemonade-coolattas @llyncooljones @mariamuses @moodymelanist @morganofthewildfire @nerdperson524 @rhysiedarling @rowaelinismyotp @rowaelinrambling @rowanaelinn @shyvioletcat @stardelia @superspiritfestival @sv0430 @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @the-lonelybarricade @the-regal-warrior @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading

[wordsafterhours]

Teaser - Songs About You - Chapter 9

[afanpage4books]

Aelin: I need that bed.

Rowan: Why?

Aelin: Because I need it.

Rowan: Why?

Aelin: Because if someone were to break in here in the middle of the night wanting to murder us, they’d attack this bed first. So, I need that bed.

Rowan: So, you’re saying that you want me to get murdered first? In front of you? And then what would you do? Would you just run away and leave me to bleed out on the floor?

Aelin: That was the plan. I was hoping your screams of agony would alert me to the intruder’s presence so I could escape.

[muyscadre]

Remember when Rowan wore Arrobyn’s almond oil so Aelin wouldn’t have to wear it alone?

Me too. 💕

[hamsterboos]

here’s a fact. hating someone is exhausting.

Again, another one I speed wrote between finishing up homework and playing genshin lmao I really need to work on that but oh well. Seeing the prompt immediately reminded me of The Hating Game and this is kind of based on that, so do with that information what you will :D Title is also a quote from the book!

Word Count: 1495 Read on AO3 Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Day 18 of Rowaelin Month Prompt: You're my work rival and we're stuck in an elevator

~~~~~~

It was a race, and they were tied for first place.

Then again, it’s not like there were any other competitors except for the two of them.

Aelin glanced at the clock and silently cursed, realizing that there wasn't much time left until the working day was done, and she desperately needed to finish this data analysis report for her boss to be able to look over the first thing Monday morning. The only caveat to this was that Rowan Whitethorn was also there until the last possible minute finishing his analysis report on a different department’s data collection.

If he wasn’t sitting directly across from her and constantly in her direct line of sight, it wouldn’t have been such a problem, but when she looked up to see his annoyingly handsome face with his gorgeous eyes and infuriatingly beautiful tattoo creeping out of his shirt’s collar, Aelin was just pissed off that he was such a dick.

Ever since Rowan had joined the company, his insane work ethic (that rivaled hers, honestly) and the fact that he had immediately begun to compete with her for the same manager promotion had Aelin understandably frustrated, and it seems that Rowan was frustrated as well. However, Aelin was nothing but professional, so she never acted on her annoyance with him until the small passive-aggressive and sarcastic comments shared between them turned the silent feud not-so-silent, or secret. Soon enough, the entire office was aware of the fact that Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn hated each other and could not work together.

Of course, that just forced their boss to work together more often than not on data analysis projects, but they got their shit down. Somehow.

And now here they were, both working till the last possible second of the working day to show off their dedication to their jobs in order to somehow get the upper hand compared to the other. Everyone else had slowly begun to leave already, the office emptying out early especially with it being a Friday afternoon (even their boss had left), but this was an important report. With being promoted to a manager role, that would mean that they were the other’s boss, and Aelin wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle Rowan as her boss. He would definitely somehow make her working life hell, and she liked her job; she enjoyed working with the numbers and making graphs and analyzing these numbers.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard, and with every glance at the clock and at Rowan, her fingers worked faster, slowly beginning to cramp as she desperately tried to get that last sentence in so she could proofread it over quickly.

“How are you still writing, Galanthynius?” she heard Rowan taunt, and she rolled her eyes as she finished typing out her last thought. “You seem to be losing your touch.”

“Screw off, Whitethorn,” she growled, hitting enter and then saving the document — four times but who’s counting — before turning to look at his smug face. “Maybe you finished earlier because you didn’t have nearly as much detail as I do. It’s always quality over how fast something can get done, anyway.”

“Hmm, that wouldn’t make a difference if Maeve can’t look at the document bright and early on Monday, now would it?”

“Who said anything about her not having it done by Monday morning?” she asked, her eyes scanning the document over for any typos and coherency issues.

“Such arrogance.”

“It’s called confidence, Rowan. Maybe you’d attract more girls if you had any of that,” she replied sweetly. It was a blatant lie, though. He had enough confidence in himself that she was attracted to him. Not that she’d ever, ever, make that obvious to him.

“Not like you go out on many dates, either.” Aelin saved the file yet again after another read through, and she sent it to the printer, and she stood up, moving to the printer. Rowan followed her.

“How do you know I don’t have one tonight?”

“I think you’d be bragging about it much more if you did.”

Aelin leaned against the printer as it worked, and she ran her eyes over him. It was unfair how hot he looked in a white button-up collared shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, and gray slacks, but it wasn’t like she was unaware that she looked hot today as well. It was a navy long sleeved dress with a gold belt cinching around her waist and a v-neck that went deep enough to barely be considered professional.

“I don’t need to brag about my dates,” she said, turning to pick up her papers and stapling them. “I think my clothes are enough.”

Aelin saw his eyes roam over her, lingering on the v-neck, before snapping back to her face. “I suppose so. I’ve seen you look like a nun, so this is definitely something special.”

“Aw,” she cooed. “You like it. Now, if you’d kindly get out of my way, I have something to submit before I leave.”

She walked away from him and set the report on Maeve’s desk before picking up all of her belongings and packing it away and moving to leave the office. Waiting for the elevator took a bit, and by that time Rowan had joined her, silently standing next to her. The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival, and they both got on, still in utter silence until there was a loud clanging sound as the elevator jerked. Aelin lost her balance as she let out a cry of surprise, tumbling into Rowan’s side. He grabbed onto her waist to steady her with one hand braced on the side of the elevator, and the lights within had turned off before turning to a soft blinking red.

“What’s going on?” she asked, pushing herself away from him. Rowan moved to press a button on the elevator before they both realized that the building had lost power, effectively trapping them in the elevator.

“Shit,” he cursed, “we’re stuck.”

Aelin pressed the emergency speaking button, “Hello? Is anyone there? We’re stuck in the elevator.”

The speaker crackled to life immediately afterwards, with someone asking if they were okay and how many people were in the elevator before saying that the firefighters were on their way, but it would take at least half an hour.

“Well this is fantastic,” Aelin sighed, leaning against the wall.

“Too bad you’re missing out on your date,” Rowan said.

“Yeah, well at least you get to grace yourself in my presence for a bit longer.”

“As if I need more of you in my life.”

Aelin scoffed. “People could always use more of me in their lives. You wouldn’t be having nearly as much fun at work without me.”

“WIthout you? You can’t deal with half the tech problems we get if it weren’t for me. How did you make do without me?”

“Perfectly fine, Rowan, trust me.” In their heated conversation, she hadn’t realized when she’d moved away from the wall and instead was so close to Rowan that she could feel his body heat. His hand snaked around her waist and pulled him snug against her body, and her hands landed on his firm chest.

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered.

Aelin smiled, “I don’t care.”

She wasn’t sure if she had moved first or he had, but the next thing she knew, her arms were around his neck and both his hands were on her waist as their lips moved in tandem.

He was intoxicating as his lips devoured hers, and her brain spun as her body heated up in his hold.

Holy shit, Rowan was an amazing kisser.

She leaned up on her toes to get better access to his lips, and he leaned down even further. She couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t care. Who needed air when he was kissing her like that? It wasn’t possible for her to want to keep doing this with a man she hated, but her body didn’t care about that. Her body wanted Rowan’s hands all over her. Her body wanted him to slam her against the wall, hard enough that all she could feel was his body against hers.

Fortunately (or unfortunately?), her brain restarted, and Aelin pushed away from him, her chest heaving as she took gulps of air.

As the two looked at each other in silence, there wasn’t anything for them to say. She knew Rowan felt the same as she did. This was a mistake. An insanely amazing mistake, but a mistake regardless.

“This was a one time thing,” she breathed, and he nodded, his eyes still burning into her.

Thankfully, the elevator jerked slightly yet again as the speaker turned on again. “Good news, the power’s back, so everything’s fine.

“Great, thanks,” Rowan responded, and once they had arrived at the ground floor, Aelin resisted the urge to grab him again.

That could not happen again.

[ladybookstan]

{Acotar Masterlist}

Headcanons

Elorcan Modern AU

Elorcan Modern AU - part two

Manorian's Daughter

Manorian's Daughter with The Thirteen

Dorian Havilliard & Asterin (His Daughter)

Manon Blackbeak & Asterin (Her Daughter)

Asterin B. C. Havilliard

Edits

Dorian Havilliard {Edit - two} {Edit - three}

Elorcan, Manorian, Nestaq

Elorcan Modern AU

Manorian Modern AU

Chaorene's Song

Quotes

{Crown of Midnight}

Dorian Haviliard

Quote - two

Quote - three

Quote - four

Quote - five

Quote - Six

Quote - Seven

Quote - Eight

Quote - nine

Nehemia Ytger

Quote - two

Celaena & Nehemia

Friendship Dorian & Celaena

{Heir of Fire}

Rowan Whitethorn

Quote - two

Aedion Ashryver

Manon Blackbeak

Manon & Abraxos

Sorscha

Dorian Haviliard

Rowan & Celaena/Aelin

Rowaelin

Dorian Haviliard

I'm trying to rehydrate

Aelin Galathynius

Rowaelin

Dorian Haviliard

{Queen of Shadows}

Aelin Galathynius

Lysandra and Aelin

Aelin Galathynius

Aelin Galathynius

Manon and Abraxos Blackbeak

Asterin and Manon

Manorian

{Empire of Storms}

Aelin, Aedion and Rowan

{Tower of Dawn}

Nesryn Faliq

About Dorian Havilliard

{Kingdom of Ash}

Narene and Abraxos

Aelin and Rowan

Some Thoughts

• Manon and Abraxos

• Dorian, some characters and their mind games

• Manon and Aelin in Queen of Shadows

• Elide and Yrene

• Evans Nikopoulos is Dorian Havilliard.

• How l imagine the characters in Throne of Glass

• Next generation of TOG

• Couples's Song - Power Over Me

• Silence and The Tog's Characters

• The Modern Sartag

• Tog's Places

• Elide Lochan in her Honeymoon

• Vibes Perranth - Terrasen

• Nestaq Appreciation

• Nestaq: the adventurous couple

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

Chapter; Highlights (okay the entire chapter is a highlight)🤣

As requested @mysterylilycheeta I NEED TO SQUEAL IN WYVERN FANGIRL WITH YOU NOW CAUSE OH M GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER ON SO MANY LEVELS I JUST AHAKWIHUHFEJLZXBKEKA

Agony was a song in Lorcan's blood, his bones, his breath.

Every step of the horse, every leap she made over body and debris, sent it ringing afresh. There was no end, no mercy from it. It was all he could do to keep in the saddle, to cling to consciousness.

To keep his arm around Elide.

She had come for him. Had found him, somehow, on this endless battlefield.

His name on her lips had been a summons he could never deny, even when death had held him so gently, nestled beneath all those he'd felled, I, and waited for his last breaths.

And now, charging toward that too-distant keep, so far behind the droves of soldiers and riders racing for the gates, he wondered if these minutes would be his last. Her last.

She had come for him.

Lorcan managed to glance toward the dam on their right. Toward the ruk rider signaling that it was only a matter of minutes until it unleashed hell over the plain.

He didn't know how it had become weakened. Didn't care.

Still Elide kept urging the horse onward, kept them on as straight a path toward the distant keep as possible.

No ruk would come to sweep them up. No, his luck had been spent in surviving this long, in her finding him. His power would do nothing against that water.

The farthest lines of panicked soldiers appeared, and Farasha charged past them.

Elide let out a sob, and he followed the line of her sight.

To the keep gate, still open.

"Faster, Farasha!" She didn't hide the raw terror in her voice, the desperation.

Once the dam broke, it would take less than a minute for the tidal wave to reach them.

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, "You have to let me go."

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn't shift her focus from the keep ahead. "No."

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. "You have to. You have to, Elide. I'm too heavy-and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time."

"No." The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

"I love you," he whispered in Elide's ear. "I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken." Her tears flowed past him in the wind. "And I will be with you ..." His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. "I will be with you always."

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide's cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. "I love you," he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

"No."

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

"No," she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse's sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, "FLY, FARASHA." She cracked the reins. "FLY, FLY, FLY!"

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare's lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.

Rowan made himself stand there, to watch the last moments of the Lady of Perranth and his former commander. It was all he could offer: witnessing their deaths, so he might tell the story to those he encountered. So they would not be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave became deafening, even from miles away.

Still Elide and Lorcan raced, Farasha passing horse after horse after horse.

Even up here, would they escape the wave's reach? Rowan dared to survey the battlements, to assess if he needed to get the others, needed to get Aelin, to higher ground.

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

Rowan's heart halted. Simply stopped beating as a ruddy-brown ruk dropped from the skies, spearing for the center of the plain.

Arcas, Borte's ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons.

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet.

Right in the path of that wave.

"Oh gods," Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too.

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

The keep stones began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear like nothing he had known ripping through him as Aelin lifted her arms above her head.

A pillar of fire shot up around her, lifting her hair with it.

The wave roared and roared for her, for the army behind her.

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

Cracks formed in the earth, splintering across it. Spiderwebbing from Aelin.

"The hot springs," Chaol breathed. "The valley floor is full of veins into the earth itself."

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

She held out a hand before her, her fist closed.

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

He knew then. Either as her mate or carranam, he knew.

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

"Three months," he said again, his knees wobbling. "She's been making the descent into her power for three months."

Every day she had been with Maeve, bound in iron, she had gone deeper. And she had not tapped too far into that power since they'd freed her because she had kept making the plunge.

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

A few weeks of descent had taken her powers to devastating levels. Three months of it

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

And when her fire hit the wall of water now towering over her, when they collided —

"GET DOWN!" Rowan bellowed, over the screaming waters. "GET DOWN NOW!"

His companions dropped to the stones, any within earshot doing the same.

Rowan plummeted into his power. Plummeted into it fast and hard, ripping out any remaining shred of magic.

Elide and Lorcan were still too far from the gates. Thousands of soldiers were still too far from the gates as the wave crested above them.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where a thousand years of confinement met three months of it, the world exploded.

Blistering steam, capable of melting flesh from bone, shot across the plain.

With a roar, Rowan threw all that remained of his magic toward the onslaught of steam, a wall of wind that shoved it toward the lake, the mountains.

Still the waters came, breaking against the flames that did not so much as yield an inch.

Maeve's death blow. Spent here, to save the army that might mean Terrasen's salvation. To spare the lives on the plain.

Rowan gritted his teeth, panting against his fraying power. A burnout lurked, deadly close.

The raging wave threw itself over and over and over into the wall of flame.

Rowan didn't see if Elide and Lorcan made it into the keep. If the other soldiers and riders on the plain stopped to gape.

Princess Hasar said, rising beside him, "That power is no blessing."

"Tell that to your soldiers," Fenrys snarled, standing, too.

"I did not mean it that way," Hasar snipped, and awe was indeed stark on her face.

Rowan leaned against the battlements, panting hard as he fought to keep the lethal steam from flowing toward the army. As he cooled and sent it whisking away.

Solid hands slid under his arms, and then Fenrys and Gavriel were there, propping him up between them.

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

Time slipped from him. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

The wave lowered farther, raging waters quieting. Then roaring turned to lapping, rapids into eddies.

Until the wall of flame began to lower, too. Tracking the waters down and down and down. Letting them seep into the cracks of the earth.

Rowan's knees buckled, but he held on to his magic long enough for the steam to lessen.

For it, too, to be calmed.

It filled the plain, turning the world into drifting mist. Blocking the view of the queen in its center.

Then silence. Utter silence.

Fire flickered through the mist, blue turning to gold and red. A muted, throbbing glow.

Rowan spat blood onto the battlement stones, his breath like shards of glass in his throat.

The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain.

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself.

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy.

The silence turned reverent.

A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.

She glowed from within. Glowed golden, tendrils of her hair floating on a phantom wind.

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

The wind pushed away more of the drifting mist, clearing the land beyond Aelin.

And where that mighty, lethal wave had loomed, where death had charged toward them, nothing remained at all.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back.

For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day.

A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

She'd kept that power coiled in herself even after she'd been freed from the irons. Had struggled to keep it down these weeks, the strain enormous. Some days, it had been easier to barely speak. Some days, swaggering arrogance had been her key to ignoring it.

Yet when she had seen that wave, when she had seen Elide and Lorcan choosing death together, when she had seen the army that might save Terrasen, she'd known. She'd felt the fire sleeping under this city, and knew they had come here for a reason.

She had come here for this reason.

A river still flowed from the dam, harmless and small, wending toward the lake.

Nothing more.

Aelin lifted a glowing hand before her as blessed, cooling emptiness filled her at last.

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body.

Back into Aelin.

Clarity, sharp and crystal clear, filled its wake. As if she could see again, breathe again.

Inch by inch, the golden glow faded into skin and bone. Into a woman once more.

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

But as the last of the glow faded, disappearing out through her toes, Aelin fell to her knees.

Fell to her knees in the utter silence of the world, and curled onto her side.

She had the vague sense of strong, familiar arms scooping her up. Of being carried onto a broad feathery back, still in those arms.

Of soaring through the skies, the last of the mist rippling away into the afternoon sun.

And then sweet darkness.

[rufousnmacska]

Only You

A manorian arranged marriage fic from an anon request.

Thank you to @itach-i for beta reading and helping plot this out! ❤️

Previously, in Part One

*

PART TWO

*

Manon refused to look in the mirror. Giselle, a Blueblood serving as both sentinel and attendant on this trip, adjusted the drape of her dress then inserted more pins into her hair. She had successfully avoided wearing a dress at Aelin’s coronation, as well as her own. But for this event, she’d finally given in to Glennis’s appeals for formality. She told herself it was due to her grandmother’s surprisingly ruthless demands. But if a dagger were held to her throat, she might admit there was a small part of her that wanted to see Dorian’s expression at the sight of her in a dress. So, they’d packed two. While Manon had initially toyed with the idea of wearing all black to Dorian’s wedding, she knew she’d never go through with it. The black dress would be worn at tonight’s royal banquet while the more modest, light gray frock would be worn at the ceremony.

Glennis was supervising and when Giselle stepped back, they both nodded.

Manon turned away from her reflection. “You act as if the world will live or die upon my appearance tonight.”

Through a combination of luck and will, she’d managed to avoid seeing Dorian this morning when they arrived. When she was shown to her rooms, she hadn’t left them, indulging her cowardice just this once. Unfortunately, there was no way she could get out of tonight’s banquet.

“It just might,” Glennis mumbled.

Manon caught her eye and demanded, “What does that mean?” With a nod, she dismissed Giselle.

“I’ve learned Prince Fennick is here.” Glennis made no effort to hide the accusation in her voice.

“I’m surprised he was able to make the trip. I thought the seas were impassable this time of year.”

“I’ve been told he was very motivated.”

“What else have you been told?” she asked, walking around to pick up her traveling clothes that had been thrown about the room. Manon had kept the contents of Fennick’s letter a secret from Glennis, passing it off as an introduction to a possible trade alliance. On top of everything else, she didn’t want to deal with her grandmother’s nosiness. It had been easy to convince herself that he wouldn’t show up. All a mistake, she realized now, as she would have Glennis’s anger to manage along with the questions.  

“He cornered Giselle and Lara earlier to ask about your attire for tonight. Among other things.”

Manon scowled in confusion, hiding her irritation that he’d approach her witches like that. “What? Why would he want to know that?”

“Why? So he can, and I am quoting him here, ‘dress accordingly.’”

“And what other things?”

“Lara said he was asking about our capitol. If there had been much rebuilding or if it was new construction. And what sort of trade we exported.”

Manon remembered how he’d framed his interest in terms of a mutually beneficial alliance between her kingdom and Doranelle. Those questions at least made sense to her. “We have nothing to hide,” she said dismissively. “Building a kingdom from ancient ruins, nothing to trade except grains and unrefined ore. I still don’t understand about the dress though,” she confessed.

“He wants to match. Apparently he’s decided to court you at the wedding of the man you love. And, apparently, you’re going to let him!” Glennis growled.

And this was why she’d not shown the letter to Glennis. A sudden rage consumed Manon and she hissed back, “Isn’t this what everyone wants? For me to move on and produce an heir for the Witch Kingdom? Why is it that when I consider doing exactly that, I’m made to feel like some sort of traitor? Dorian has accepted his future, grandmother. Shouldn’t I do the same?”

Glennis had no reply, only an immensely sad expression on her face. While she had never pushed Manon about an heir, almost everyone else on the council had, their efforts doubling upon the news that Dorian’s betrothal had left their queen alone.

Alone. She was well and truly alone now, she realized. Dorian was the only person who had known her Thirteen for their true selves. Petrah and the other witches, even Glennis, really only knew the masks her sisters had worn. Dorian had seen them at their most vulnerable, trained and fought with them, laughed with them. The sudden breaking of that connection left her breathless with pain.

And just like that, Manon’s anger disappeared. She fell into a chair and gazed out the window at the darkening sky. She could see the ocean from here, and she knew that Dorian’s rooms were only a few short flights above hers. So close. “Does anyone else know why he is here?”

“I don’t know,” Glennis said. “I believe he’s kept to his rooms for the most part. If he’s fool enough to speak about it in front of his host, then he deserves whatever happens to him.”

Manon huffed a laugh in agreement.

“I hate that this is happening,” Glennis said, her voice miserable. “I hate it!” Manon looked up to see tears in her grandmother’s eyes. “I’m sorry, dear. It’s not fair of me to add to your torment. I know you blame yourself, but you shouldn’t. His awful lords are to blame. Dorian had no choice.” After a long moment, she added, “If you want to move on with a fae prince, I won’t stop you.”

“Of course I don’t want to,” Manon said, fighting against the tears building in her own eyes. “I want to be with Dorian. I want him and no one else to father my witchling, to rule by my side. But that’s not possible. Not anymore. I waited too long to tell him that. That’s why I blame myself. I thought we’d have time, but I was wrong.” She lost the battle with her tears, letting them run down her cheeks.

Glennis rushed over to hug her, murmuring words of consolation that, while unable to change anything, still helped to soothe her. Eventually, Manon pulled away to clean her face.

For the first time in a long time, since those desperate final days of the war, Glennis looked ancient enough to match her age. It was the tears and sadness and regret. It made Manon wonder why her grandmother never spoke of her own mate. Had he been a love match? Or an arrangement that settled into a simple happiness that allowed them to become mates? If the latter, would that be enough for Manon?

With a courage and strength that she didn’t think she had, Manon stood and grasped Glennis’s hand. “Let’s go down. I want to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

***

Dorian’s nerves grew increasingly worse as more guests made their way through the receiving line. He had yet to see Manon. He hadn’t been surprised that she’d sequestered herself in her rooms all day, but that didn’t stop the disappointment from almost overwhelming him. Only Chaol’s insistence that it might cause a scene had kept him from visiting her. Now, the idea of introducing her to Eveline made him want to throw up. He knew he wasn’t making a very good impression on the guests. Luckily, Eveline was a talented conversationalist, taking some of the attention off his own shoulders.

The next person to approach gave Dorian a shock. A fae male stood before them, tall and silver-haired, handsomely dressed in black and gold. He was the spitting image of Rowan, if Rowan had long hair. At the expression on Dorian’s face, the male broke into a laugh.

“Your Majesty. Lady Frey,” he said, bowing gracefully. “I am Prince Fennick Whitethorn. Queen Sellene of Doranelle regrets not being able to attend, but she sends her dearest wishes for a long and happy union.” He then exchanged brief introductions with Chaol and Yrene, who shared in Dorian’s surprise at the resemblance.

“Thank you, your highness,” Dorian said. “We are close friends with your cousin Rowan. Sadly, he and Aelin were unable to attend.”

“Ah, that is sad. I haven’t seen him in years and had hoped to catch up.”

“How was your voyage here?” Eveline asked. “I'm relieved that you avoided the winter storms.”

“The sea travel was harrowing in spots. But nothing to prevent me from daring the journey.” At Eveline’s quizzical look, he grinned a bit sheepishly. “I grew up listening to my grandmother spin tales of fae meeting their mates at weddings. I’m afraid I’m a romantic at heart and when Sellene asked me to represent Doranelle, I could not pass up the opportunity.”

Eveline laughed. “Well, perhaps you will find them tonight. Though, I don’t think there are any other fae present.”

Not acknowledging the encroachment of a noble couple wishing he would move along, Fennick said, “Lucky for me, Lady, the fae mating bond has been known to happen with humans. I believe your king’s ancestors were such a pair, yes?” Before Dorian could reply, Fennick continued. “It is rare, but it happens. I’ve even heard tell of fae sharing mate bonds with witches.”

Maintaining a pleasant air, she said, “Ah, is that so? I’m afraid I’m rather ignorant on those matters.” With an eye to the rest of the line, she said, “Please enjoy yourself this evening.”

“Thank you,” he said with another quick bow. “I intend to.”

Dorian had stiffened, his fists clenched so tightly his skin was white at the knuckles. He gave the prince a dismissive nod, then watched as he mingled with the crowd that had formed at the entrance to the ballroom. He very clearly overheard Fennick ask someone if the Witch Queen had made her appearance yet. Yrene heard too, and Chaol had to grab her arm to keep her from going after the male.

The next guests passed by in a haze. Dorian smiled prettily and welcomed them. He could think of nothing but the arrogant fae male in search of a mate and was wondering if Fennick had been trying to goad him into some sort of confrontation. When a hand pinched his arm, he looked over to see Chaol, wearing a wild-eyed expression that screamed for him to focus.

He spun back around to find Manon standing before him.

Unable to stop himself, he just stared at her. It had been months since they’d last seen each other, let alone spoken. While Dorian had seen her in flying leathers and other basic clothes, had seen her in every state of undress, he’d never seen her wearing a dress. Until this moment, he’d thought she’d never looked more beautiful than when she’d had on one of his night shirts. How wrong he was.

The black dress hugged her body, flaring out at the hem and pooling on the floor. The low neckline would have been scandalous if not for the jewel-encrusted golden collar that wrapped around her neck and extended out to cap her shoulders. Though she did not have it on tonight, he knew the jewels matched those that blazed in the stars of crown. Her hair was twisted up, held in place by golden pins, a few silken strands hanging down around her face.

As the silence grew, and as others around them watched with eyes greedy for drama, Dorian swallowed, hoping he could remember words, any words, to get him through this moment.

But it was Eveline who spoke first. “Your Majesty, thank you for making the long journey to celebrate with us.” She curtsied to Manon, then smiled in greeting to Glennis and the witches standing behind their queen. “When I was in the stable yard earlier, I checked in on your wyverns to make sure they were comfortable. I confess I’d never seen one so close before. They are truly amazing.”

Manon dipped her head. “It is my great honor, Lady. And yes, our mounts have been well attended. I hope they were on their best behavior.”

“Oh yes,” Eveline said. “The smaller one seemed very gentle. One of the yard hands told me he loves flowers.” She gestured to the large bouquets decorating the hall. “I requested some be sent down to him.”

Almost imperceptibly, Manon’s eyes flared at the mention of Abraxos’s gentleness. As if his approval of Eveline meant something beyond his usual love of a pretty face and kind nature.

Eveline hesitated, looking between Dorian and Manon. “I hope that was acceptable. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

Manon smiled reassuringly and said, “No, you did not, Lady. I appreciate your attentiveness, and I’m sure Abraxos did too.” Turning to fully face Dorian, her eyes glittered in the light of the chandeliers. He searched her face, awestruck as always by her beauty, but now hoping to see some acknowledgment that this was as torturous for her as it was for him. With a steady voice, she said, “Congratulations, Your Majesty.”

I’m princeling to you, he wanted to say. Maybe that would break through the ice-cold mask Manon had donned. But instead, all he could manage was a pathetic, “Thank you.”

Manon waited for a moment, as if he might have more to say. But when nothing came, his mind reeling with everything he couldn’t speak aloud, she made her way towards an anxiously waiting Yrene. The healer ignored protocol and pulled Manon into a hug. Dorian watched them speak quietly together, until a strong hand squeezed his, drawing his attention away. He looked down to see Glennis smiling sadly. She’d become as much a grandmother to him as she was to Manon, and he realized suddenly that she would soon be taken out of his life too.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I don’t …” But he couldn’t finish. And Glennis wouldn’t let him anyway.

She bowed, offering Eveline a kind smile as she said, “My congratulations, Lady.”

Eveline, gracious as ever, dipped her head in return and thanked Glennis for her well wishes.

And just like that, the witches were gone and there was some merchant family standing in front of him. Dorian’s senses were overloaded, and he simply ignored the next influx of guests, selfishly relying on Eveline to chat with them. He should have turned away, should have focused on his duties, but his eyes followed Manon towards the ballroom. Before she could enter, Fennick presented himself to her with another dignified bow, then extended his arm. Dorian couldn’t hear what they said as she accepted and he escorted Manon into the room. In fact, he could hear nothing at all.

Chaol appeared in front of him, mouthing something to Eveline, then pulled Dorian back down a hallway to a deserted storage closet. Dorian’s knees nearly buckled, and he fell against the wall. Covering his mouth and trusting the noise down the hall to drown it out, he let loose the scream he’d been holding in for months. Magic exploded through the room, leaving the walls and floor coated with a thick sheet of ice. The temperature dropped so low that Chaol’s lips and eyelashes frosted over. But his friend said nothing, just let him yell, let his magic overtake them until there was nothing left. 

*****

Manon barely registered what was happening as she let the fae prince lead her into the ballroom. She knew he was speaking to her, but she only picked up pieces here and there, relegating the words to nonsense. Numbly, she turned back, searching for Dorian, but he was gone.

Her mind was caught on a moment ago when she’d been standing before him, drowning in the familiarity of his scent, his eyes, all of him. She was used to seeing him in formal clothing, but tonight, Dorian had outdone himself. In Adarlan red and embroidered with shimmering gold and silver wyverns, his jacket fit snugly across his broad shoulders, the back hem extending to his knees. It flattered his figure in such a way that he seemed taller, even more commanding than usual. His ebony hair had grown, curling at his ears and around his crown, a reminder of how long it had been since she’d seen him.

In a sparkling golden gown that complemented her dark hair and eyes, Eveline was lovely. As Manon had expected. What surprised her was the gratitude she felt for Eveline’s quick ability to relieve some of the tension. The truth was, if not for her, Manon and Dorian might still be standing there, entranced and speechless and desperate for each other’s presence.

“Your Majesty?” The fae was holding a chair out for her.

Manon spun around, shocked to find herself on the opposite side of the ballroom. She had no memory of getting here. Adarlan’s nobles and upper class shuffled around them, making a show of looking for their seats. But they were all watching her, some more brazenly than others. She stared back, forcing them to look away or bow their heads. With a tight smile, she thanked Fennick and sat down, her sentinels taking their positions along the wall behind her. He held out a chair for Glennis, who grumbled a thank you, then took the seat on Manon’s other side. Two couples claimed the remaining spots at their table and she could tell by their attire that they were foreign dignitaries. The older of the men introduced himself as the ambassador from Melisande and began speaking to Glennis, who looked both annoyed at the distraction and overjoyed at not having to converse with Fennick.

“I apologize,” Fennick said quietly. “This must be very difficult for you, Your Majesty.”

Manon blinked as she tried to imagine him calling her witchling. Never, came the shouted reply in her head. No one would ever call her that again. Yet another connection to a happier time that had been severed.

“I’ve lived through worse,” she said without thinking. It was true. And yet, also a lie. Losing her coven had been worse. But this was its own special misery. To lose Dorian now, after she’d begun to heal, after she’d chosen to live … this new wound cut long and deep, reopening all the old hurts from which she’d just started to recover.

Fennick was watching her carefully, no doubt unsure of how to respond. But he surprised her by saying, “Yes. They are legends in the fae lands. If not for the bravery of your witches, the world would have been destroyed. Sellene and Endymion speak highly of them. Truly, I am sorry for your loss.”

Manon attempted a smile, hoping that would be the end of it. People often didn’t know what to say when the topic of the Thirteen was broached. That Fennick said anything, let alone kind words, was a comfort. Yet she had no desire to discuss it further and add salt to her wounds.

In a cruel bit of luck, they were distracted by Dorian and Eveline entering the room. They made their way to a dais at the front of the crowd as everyone applauded. Pretending to clap, Manon tried in vain to focus on Chaol and Yrene, who’d already taken their seats at the head table. She felt Dorian’s eyes on her and for a brief instance, their gazes met. His smile was fake, she knew. But the recognition in his stare made her feel seen, known in a way that so few did.

When he saw who was next to her, his look turned almost feral. But then Eveline leaned close to say something to him and he turned away. The smile he gave his future queen appeared more genuine, enough so that its sincerity gave Manon pause. Quickly losing interest in the spectacle, she turned back to Fennick.

“You can’t have come all this way just to meet with me,” she said, holding her wine glass for a server to fill. She almost asked the man to leave the entire decanter at the table. She wasn’t one for drink, but tonight might be a perfect time to start.

“I can assure you, I did.”

“And why is that exactly?”

He laughed and leaned back in his chair. It was only then that she saw he’d actually matched his outfit to hers. She glanced back to Giselle and Lara. The witches had the good sense to look ashamed, but Manon wouldn’t punish them. Instead of anger, she was biting back a laugh. It was a decent attempt, but if Fennick thought she would be impressed by such things, he was an idiot. While she could appreciate the way Dorian dressed, it wasn’t a thing she noticed on anyone else.

“In my letter I mentioned having gone through a similar experience,” he said, gesturing to the dais with his glass before taking a sip. “I once loved a human. But it ended badly.” He didn’t volunteer more information, and though Manon was curious, she didn’t ask for more. “When Sellene got the invitation and seemed shocked by who the king had chosen to wed, I saw a possible kindred spirit in you. The more she told me about you, the more intrigued I became. Though, her description of your beauty was lacking to say the least.” With a flirtatious half smile, he added, “The fae are known for their otherworldly beauty, but I can officially say that witches,” he nodded to her, “have far surpassed my kind.”

Manon had to turn away to hide her laugh. People flirted with her all the time. But after so long with Dorian, she’d grown used to his playfulness and subtlety.

Mistaking it as shyness, Fennick went on. “You don’t believe me? Look around this room. They are here for a king’s wedding, yet all their eyes follow us.”

She considered telling him it had everything to do with the humans’ love of gossip and nothing to do with their looks, but he knew that. This was just a game, one she didn’t feel like playing no matter how entertaining it might be.

The ambassador’s assistant asked Fennick a question, thankfully taking his attention off her. Ignoring the conversation, she gazed up at the dais. Chaol and Yrene were seated to Dorian’s left and a sour looking man had appeared to Eveline’s right. She narrowed her eyes on Lord Frey. The way he held himself, looking down his nose and sneering at the guests, reminded her of the Blackbeak Matron. It made sense. They both possessed a cruel desire for power that left others at risk.

As if a light had been shone on it, she noticed that Eveline kept herself as far from her father as possible. Or was she just trying to get closer to Dorian? Manon didn’t think it was wishful thinking. The girl clearly hated her father, and justifiably so. For the first time, Manon considered that Eveline may not want this union either. She’d never blamed the girl outright, but she’d never spared any sympathy either. But even sympathy couldn’t quell her desire to be in Eveline’s place. Maybe not in front of this crowd. But by Dorian’s side? At this moment, Manon wanted nothing more. As she sank into the feeling, her favorite blue eyes found her.

A charge passed between them and it felt like the entire room had been emptied. A crazy urge almost took her, to get up and take his hand and just walk out. Leave everyone and everything behind. Others could rule their kingdoms. Clean up the mess they’d leave behind. Manon blinked and the noise and people surged back. Dorian was perched on the edge of his chair, as if he’d had the same vision of escape. But with the return to reality, that vision faded into darkness. Where she knew it belonged.

Fennick said something to her and she twisted in her chair. He was speaking animatedly to the ambassador, his assistant, and their wives, trying to pull Manon into the conversation. “We were just talking about wedding gifts. It’s difficult enough trying to get something for people who aren’t royalty. Whatever do you give a king and his queen?” he asked.

Manon held back a flinch at that description of Dorian and Eveline and glanced at the others. The women seemed to be too polite to point out the rudeness of Fennick’s topic.

Glennis wasn’t. “I would think it’s not proper to discuss such things,” she said, earning a nod of agreement from the ambassador’s wife.

Fennick laughed airily, failing to see Glennis’s nasty look. “It’s just in good fun. Doranelle is well known for our gold and metalcraft, so Sellene commissioned a music box that is embossed with the Havilliard crest. She thought it appropriate to send a gift representative of our wealth.” His face reddened, as though his queen’s arrogance was embarrassing.

The ambassador cleared his throat, ignoring his wife’s glare. “Melisande is well known for our textiles, so we gifted them an assortment of our finest silks.” As if wanting to be saved from his wife, he looked to Manon, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

She wasn’t going to reply at first. No amount of pleading from the ambassador could draw her into this. But then, despite the crone’s earlier disapproval, she saw the curiosity on Glennis’s face and found herself saying, “I’ve given them a book.”

With a contemptuous smirk, the assistant piped up and asked, “A book? Does it hold some sort of secret witch knowledge to make it suitable for a king?”

If she wasn’t still reeling from the moment she’d just shared with Dorian, Manon might have told him to go to hell. But this whole night had left her out of sorts. And besides, she would not be the cause of a scene. Glaring at the man, she said, “It’s called a memory book, the pages left blank for commemorating special events. Weddings. Births.” She waved her hand, dismissing the topic as much as the nausea that suddenly struck her.

While the men looked confused, as if an empty book were the worst gift in the world, the women smiled, agreeing it was a lovely idea. She found Fennick looking at her, his head tilted slightly, as if trying to decide between the two possibilities. Finally, he gave her a soft smile and said, “I’d not thought you the romantic type, Your Majesty. That is indeed a beautiful gift.”

Manon thanked him with a nod, sitting quietly as the others continued talking and studiously avoiding Glennis’s eyes on her. She’d had no idea what Manon had brought to give Dorian and Eveline. What would she think if Manon told her she’d left the name plate blank? She had not been able to bring herself to write Eveline’s name next to Dorian’s. A cowardly deed. Just as it had been a cowardly urge earlier to run from this night.

By the time dinner ended and the music was starting, she was silent and numb, burying herself in dark thoughts and wishing she had never come. Glennis had done her part in keeping the conversation at the table going, but once the last course was cleared, she excused herself to go speak to Yrene. When Fennick stood and offered his hand to dance, Manon just stared. He sat again, his smile fading and a concerned look in his eye. He’d tried to improve her mood during dinner but to no avail.

“Go dance, Fennick. I’m fine.”

“You’re the only one I want to dance with, Your Majesty.”

She sighed, but her mouth twitched upwards. “Just call me Manon.” She had no energy for maintaining airs.

As they sat and watched the dance floor fill, he said, “I was ready to give up my immortality for the woman I loved.” Manon turned towards him, her foul mood momentarily replaced by curiosity. “During Maeve’s reign I spent as much time as I could outside of Doranelle. I met her in Wendlyn. She was a seamstress, beautiful and kind.” He glanced at Manon, frowning. “I think I fell in love with her the instant our eyes met. There was this inexplicable connection. Fae can mate with humans, but it’s very rare. I thought that if I waited, the bond would snap into place and she would be my mate.”

Manon turned her attention back to the dancing. She hid her trembling hands under the table, remembering she had once thought the same thing about Dorian. Witches had mates, but not in the fae sense. The connection was not magical, it wasn’t something feral and uncontrollable. A witch chose her mate, their bond forged on love and respect. Nothing more. But, there was something more with Dorian. A tug towards him she’d felt when they’d met, a pull that she could never truly explain. Once, she’d almost asked Glennis if having two witch parents gave her more fae blood than most witches. But she’d talked herself out of it, eased by the thought that she and Dorian had time. And the knowledge that ultimately, it made no difference. She loved him either way.

Fennick laughed, a soft, humorless sound. “You can guess that she was not, in fact, my mate. When I spoke of giving up my immortality to be with her, she tried to talk me out of it.” Another laugh. “That raised my suspicions and I discovered she was in love with another man. A human.”

“You laugh about it,” Manon said. “How long ago was it?”

“Almost two hundred years ago. And yes, I laugh, but the pain of it still surprises me sometimes.”

She could understand that. In comparison, practically no time had passed for her, but she couldn’t imagine a future free of the pain of losing her coven. Despite his arrogance and formality, she could admit they did share some things in common.

They sat in silence again, watching the dancing. Her head was full of voices urging her to accept things, move on. Live. With a glance to the dais, where Dorian was staring at Eveline, Manon said, “I’m not a dancer. But perhaps this evening doesn’t need to have a miserable end.”

Fennick smiled, stood, and offered her his hand again.

She took it, and despite the voices she’d listened to, Manon felt like a traitor as he led her to the dance floor.

***

It had taken longer for Dorian to make himself presentable after his little explosion in the closet than it did to release his rage. Luckily, he had enough magic left to heal the burst blood vessels in his eyes. And warm Chaol, whose fingertips had taken on a purplish sheen from the cold. Neither Eveline nor Yrene said anything when they returned, and by that point, it was time for dinner.

Godsdamn this entire farce, Dorian silently yelled, plastering a grin on his face as they made their way to the dais and took their seats. He tried not to be obvious in his search for Manon, but he knew it was useless. When he saw her, his wild mind quieted, his breathing evened out. She always had that effect on him. Even in the midst of lovemaking, when it made no sense for her to do so, she somehow calmed him.

His eyes caught the site of Fennick sitting beside her and the calmness disappeared in a flash. Of course the bastard was there. Dorian had no right to be angry or jealous. He knew it. But that meant nothing when he saw the fae’s proximity to Manon. What little magic remained in his veins growled and he fought to stifle it.

Eveline leaned towards him then and said, “We could claim he was never invited and have him thrown out.”

As the dream of tossing Fennick on his ass played out in his head, Dorian couldn’t help but smile. “If you have yet to get a wedding gift for me, that would be perfect.”

Laughing, she replied, “Sadly, I already got you a gift. That is, if it arrives on time. But it’s one I think you will actually enjoy more.”

Desperate to keep his mind and eyes off Manon, he said lightly, “More than pummeling Fennick Whitethorn? I can’t imagine what it must be.”

Lord Frey sauntered over and took his seat on Eveline’s other side, effectively killing their conversation. Eveline stiffened, inching closer to Dorian. They both ignored the lord and the slight at taking his seat after the king. Chaol glared at the man and Yrene leaned forward to silently examine Dorian. He winked at her, and though she didn’t believe his playfulness, she was satisfied that he was not hurt by his magical outburst.

Eveline asked her about Josie, who was under the care of Chaol’s mother. As the two women talked, Dorian couldn’t help himself and watched Manon. She sat with her back to him, so he couldn’t see her reactions to Fennick’s ridiculous attempts at flirting. The male looked to be laying it on thick. He hoped that Manon might get offended and slap him. But instead she ducked her head away and smiled. His head told him it was fake, or an attempt to keep from laughing at the male. But his gut churned and soon, the possibility that she was enjoying it overtook any common sense he had left.

Forcing himself to look away, he couldn’t chase the thoughts from his mind. Did this fool actually think Manon could be his mate? And just like that, the notion dug itself into his brain, taking hold and refusing to let go.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now,” Chaol demanded.

Dorian turned, eyes still narrowed, jaw clenched. He sat his wine glass down before he shattered it.

“Oh, never mind. It’s written all over your face.”

“And if that were someone flirting with Yrene? You’d just pretend it wasn’t happening?”

Chaol sighed. “No. I’d punch him in the face.”

“Thank you!” Dorian said, feeling momentarily victorious.

“Hell, I’d gladly punch Fennick on your behalf. But Manon would be livid if I robbed her of the chance,” Chaol said.

Dorian thought the sight of Manon beating the fae to a pulp was much better than his earlier vision of doing it himself. Unfortunately, his hopes looked to be dashed. “That is not livid,” he said glumly, gesturing to where she sat talking to Fennick. Nodding his thanks to the server who filled his plate, he stared at the food, not bothering to reach for a utensil. His appetite had been absent for weeks and there was no chance it would return tonight.

He looked up to find golden eyes upon him. Dorian stopped breathing, and suddenly time and space felt infinite. Or, was that her eyes? Something flickered between them and he inched forward, as if he might jump up and flee with her. Escape this nonsense and the suffocation of their crowns. As quickly as the moment had taken him, it faded, leaving him about to push himself off his chair, ready to bolt.

Clearing his throat, he settled back into his seat, his gaze back on the food before him.

“If I may, Your Majesty,” Eveline said, dipping her spoon into her stew, “it might help to act as if you’re in a play.”

He gave her an apologetic look for what she had just witnessed. “A play? Is that how you survive court?”

“It is. Sometimes I pretend that I am part of some grand production, acting out a role.” She was smiling as she spoke, but Dorian couldn’t help but feel saddened by her confession. She must have noticed so she said, “It’s quite fun. Especially when I can play into people’s preconceived notions about me. Lady Thorn thinks me an idiot. But when I feign ignorance, she is the one who must always explain her snobbish jokes and insults until they are no longer funny. She is the one left looking a fool.”

Dorian laughed, clinked her glass with his and said, “Well done. I wish I could have witnessed that.”

Eveline eyed him, “That was well done too.”

“I wasn’t acting just now. I would truly love to see Lady Thorn taken down a peg or two. The woman is abominable.”

She laughed and they continued talking, sharing opinions about the worst of the nobility, excluding Lord Frey only because he was within hearing distance. Although Dorian barely ate, the courses passed by quickly. When the quartet that had played during dinner became a larger ensemble and started playing dance music, members of the crowd looked to Dorian and Eveline. But she begged off the attempt to have them open the dance floor, and Dorian waved for the guests to begin without them. He didn’t mind. Manon had never danced before, and he would rather sit out this part of the night too.

Lord Frey, having been ignored the entire night, stood and threw his napkin on the table. Before he made his exit, he bent between his daughter and Dorian and growled, “Do not think I am blind. If you dishonor my daughter any further by staring so lewdly at the witch, I may be inclined to take back my offer of peace.”

Without looking at Lord Frey, and with a surprisingly hostile note to her voice, Eveline said, “If you renege on this agreement, father, you might very well lose the support you barely manage to cling to.”

Dorian looked back and forth between them, annoyed when Lord Frey took his leave before he could put the noble in his place. To Eveline, he asked, “Are there weaknesses in his alliance that I should know about?”

She only smiled, looking blankly out over the ballroom. “I don’t know. I just wanted him to leave.”

He watched her for a moment, unsure what to think. He’d been somewhat charmed by her earlier stories of play acting at the expense of the other members of court. Was she doing that now? Or did her father have that much of an effect on her? He truly didn’t know.

A low, collective gasp drew him from his thoughts, and he looked out over the ballroom.

Once, when he was young, he’d fallen, running up a flight of stairs in the castle. He’d landed hard, striking his chest against the edge of the next step up. The blow left him gasping for air for what felt like hours, the shock and pain of it lingering even after he could breathe again.

That’s what he felt now. But he hadn’t fallen. It was the sight of Manon being led onto the dance floor by Fennick that knocked the breath from his lungs. He searched desperately for Chaol or Yrene, but they had disappeared. Eveline was watching him with concern, murmuring in shock at the sight of her own breath in the air. He was paralyzed, watching this nightmare unfold and unable to stop it. And finally, Chaol was there, blocking his view of the dance floor.

“Do you need to leave?” his friend asked, glancing at Eveline, who seemed to be in favor of the idea.

“No,” Dorian said, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes and try to make sense of what was happening. “No. I will stay.”

After a long moment, Chaol reluctantly walked away, coming around the table to take his seat in case he needed to get Dorian out of there.

But somehow, Dorian remained calm, his face a perfect mask with a winning smile and bright eyes as he and Eveline oversaw the rest of the evening. The only sign of his inner turmoil was the arm rest of his chair, which had been reduced to a pile of splinters on the floor.

He focused on anyone and anything but her, too terrified of what he might see if she came into view. Terrified to see her laughing, learning to dance in another’s arms. But it didn’t really matter. That first sight of her, held close by that smirking son of a bitch as he helped her with the foot movements … it was seared into his brain. When he closed his eyes, it was there, his imagination threatening to go wild.

He felt a light touch on his hand. Eveline said, “She has left. It’s safe now.”

Dorian stared at her, unable to speak, to even say thank you. And she deserved to be thanked for putting up with him this night. Again, he wondered who she really was. Certainly not a fool. But he’d been one to think she was simple and docile. It didn’t make him feel better. Only worse for dragging her into this mess.

“I believe I’ll retire now,” he said flatly.

“Yes, of course,” Eveline said, standing as he pulled her chair out. “It’s been a long evening. And we have a big day tomorrow.” It was spoken with her usual lovely smile, and loud enough for some guests mingling nearby to hear. They bowed to Dorian and Eveline as they stepped off the dais and made their way out of the ballroom.

They walked to her rooms in silence, Dorian remembering all those times he’d asked Manon to dance, and Eveline likely thinking of what was to come the next day. He said goodnight and turned away before she closed her door. As he began the long climb up the stairs of his tower, his feet felt heavy, shackled with regret. When he reached the floor where Manon was staying, he stopped. The guards behind him stepped back, giving him leave to walk down this hallway instead of his own. But her sentinels were nowhere in sight, leaving Dorian to imagine where she might be. With a head full of useless wishing and his chest somehow both empty and aching, he continued to trudge up the steps to his rooms.

*****

With Glennis having already retired to her room next door, Manon bid her sentinels goodnight, leaving them outside in the hall. Fennick had insisted on walking her to her rooms, choosing a circuitous route that ensured they’d have more time together. He’d spoken of everything from stories of his travels to gossip about his extended family. She’d reacted when necessary, secretly reliving the way Dorian had looked when she’d stepped onto the dance floor.

Dorian had asked her to dance with him at the official events she attended in Rifthold. But she’d not had the training he did. And to expose herself like that in front of so many people had been too frightening. After that, Dorian never pushed, and he offered to teach her in private. But the promise of lessons had gone unfulfilled. They always seemed to find other uses for their precious time alone.

She couldn’t explain what happened tonight. Perhaps it was pity for Fennick. Or a desire to stop wallowing in her own. The instant she started walking to the dance floor, before seeing Dorian’s reaction that felt like a punch to her gut, she knew it was a mistake. But it would have drawn more eyes if she’d returned to the table. So instead, she let Fennick take her in his arms and spin her around a bit. He laughed when she stepped on his feet and tried to keep her up there for another round. On the verge of letting her iron teeth snick free, Manon had glared at him until he knew not to press her any further.

And now, after a round-about journey to her rooms, she was finally alone.

She tugged the pins from her hair and tossed them on a table. Unclasping the golden collar of her dress, she shrugged out of it and threw on a long, wool shirt. Despite the roaring fire, the room felt cold. And despite her fatigue, Manon knew she wouldn’t sleep. After staring out the doors to the balcony for a while, she caught the shine of moonlight on dark feathers. It took only a small flick of her hand to unlatch the handle. Before she could reconsider, she walked away, leaving what might happen next to fate.

Minutes later, from the other side of the room, she heard the door softly close. Her heart suddenly racing, she turned to find Dorian. He too had changed out of his formal clothes, and without the jacket, she could see he’d lost weight. They stared, taking all the time to drink each other in that they weren’t granted earlier. For as fast as her heart was beating, she heard his pounding faster. It made her love being a witch, this ability to sense the way his body reacted to her. There was never fear from him, never a look in his eyes that marked her as a monster.

She took a step towards him right as he said, “You danced with him.”

Manon flinched, the last word hitting her like a slap to the face.

Dorian’s face crumpled and he turned away, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “I just …” His voice caught, turning into a rough whisper. “I always thought I’d be the one to teach you how to dance.”

“You don’t get to be upset,” Manon said, trying to swallow her anger.

Spinning around, he yelled, all pretense of calm gone. “I don’t?! I don’t get to be angry that the one thing in my life I freely chose has been taken from me? The one thing I vowed to never do has been forced upon me?”

Manon tensed, expecting her guards to rush in at any moment. When they didn’t come, she realized he’d shielded them with his magic. Free to yell, she did it too. “You chose to take responsibility for your throne. No one forced you to do that. You could have walked away, abdicated and left this country for someone else to rule.” It was utterly ridiculous, and she didn’t mean a word of it, but it let her vent, let her throw something back in his face.

“What happened to ‘you’ve never given up on your people and you won’t now’? Or was that just another excuse to leave? Like my mortality or our kingdoms’ need for heirs? You didn’t even fight for us! You just told me to marry her and left. And now you’re dancing with someone else!”

She snarled, unwilling to hold back. “And you’re marrying someone else! What did you do to stop this? You act as if you exhausted every alternative, but you didn’t. The wedding invitations were practically written up and sent out the day after I left.”

“Because I didn’t want my friends to witness this circus!” He pointed to the cold night outside the doors. “That’s why I rushed it. To have it in winter so no one could come!”

Manon blinked, then covered her face with her hands and started to laugh. And then, Dorian was laughing. The release of screaming at each other felt good. Even if the words held some pieces of truth, they knew each other well enough to know how tiny and insignificant those pieces were. They knew that in this situation, faced with war or an unhappy future apart, there was no choice for either of them. As their laughter died down, they were left standing and staring at each other again.

Dorian took a step towards her, his face open to her as it had never been. “The moment I truly understood what my life would become, that it wouldn’t be my life at all, I was six years old. I didn’t cry or complain. I accepted it. Accepted the tutors and the training and the beatings. When I was fourteen and my mother began parading girls in front of me, persuading me to select one as a wife … I wasn’t strong enough then to stand up to my father, but I could resist her. I made a promise to myself that I would only marry for love. Nothing would keep me from it. Not my mother’s manipulations or my father’s cruelty. Not the weight of my crown. And even when I fell in love, even when my crown and his cruelty took those loves away, I held on to that vow, knowing that whatever else I gave up for Adarlan, I might at least be with someone I loved. A queen who loved me, who would erase every nightmare, help me battle every hardship. A queen who would stand beside me. That queen is you. It’s only ever been you.”

That was where Manon wished to be. Beside him, offering her strength and taking his when she needed it. Trusting him as she’d trusted no other. Saving him and letting him save her. Just as they’d always done. Dorian was everything she wanted and needed in a friend and lover.

“Seeing you with him tonight, I couldn’t stand it. I know I have no right to feel that way. You don’t belong to me. But I belong to you. No matter what happens tomorrow, I am yours, and always will be.”

Manon closed her eyes, not knowing what to say and trying to keep the tears at bay. He was right. About all of it. She’d let herself fall into that same trap these past two years. That instead of being forced to have an heir with some random ally, she might have a choice in the matter. And her choice had already been made. From that moment she’d dragged Asterin along to Rifthold, hellbent on warning his friends that Dorian had not succumbed to the valg within him.

Yes, he was right. But what did it change?

***

“It was hard for me to see you with her,” she said, her eyes boring into him, as if searching for a sign that he wasn’t as miserable as he claimed. “Laughing and talking together.”

When she started to walk away, Dorian reached for her arm, turning her to face him. Instinctively, she pushed back, taking a fistful of his shirt to hold him in place. But he kept walking, slowly forcing her backwards, closing the distance between them until she was stopped by the wall behind her. Dorian boxed her in, his hands flat on the wall, barely an inch from her shoulders, their faces almost as close. He did not touch her, knowing that if he did, all his meager control would be lost, and he’d fall to his knees and beg. Her chest rose and fell with each jagged breath, their eyes locked like magnets.

“I hated the way you looked at her,” Manon rasped. “I hated dancing with him.”

Dorian’s fingers twitched and suddenly, he had a handful of her hair. Manon’s gaze dipped to his lips and with that single look, that soft tug of hair, the wall they’d tried to hold up between them collapsed. Still grasping his shirt, she pulled him to her. When their lips touched, they both sighed, as if arriving home after a long journey.

The kiss was like a fire ignited within them. One of his hands dropped and grabbed her hip, pulling her to him. His other hand shifted and wrapped around her neck, his thumb running along her jaw. Manon groaned and took his bottom lip between her teeth. Hitching a leg up around his hip, she drew him closer. All Dorian’s senses flashed on and the only thing he was aware of was her.

Everything, he had missed everything about her. The way her hair felt like the purest silk, the way her gold eyes darkened with desire, the sounds she made when he took her in his arms. And though he was losing himself in this kiss, he knew that more than any of those things, he’d missed simply being near her, talking to her, confessing his deepest thoughts to her. Manon was the only one he could do those things with.

“I missed you witchling. So much,” he whispered roughly against her mouth. “I love you.”

He felt the ghost of a smile as she said, “I love you too, princeling.”

His whole body shuddered at the sound of that word from her lips. Hearing it, holding her, everything about this moment reinforced that feeling of calm and rightness. Of home.

They’d never said it before, substituting that word with others, or with actions. Manon had changed so much since he’d first met her, learning to open herself to new feelings and experiences without losing any of her hard edges and steel. But he’d always assumed she was afraid to say it, to give all of herself in that way. So he’d been patient, keeping the word bottled up until the right moment. That overdependence on time had kept them from declaring their love for one another. Until now.

A tear had escaped her eye and he brushed it away with his finger. Desperate for more, for all of her, he leaned down to kiss her again, but she covered his mouth with a trembling hand.

“You can’t be here,” Manon said. “I love you but …” She pushed him back this time and walked quickly away. “You are right. And I want nothing more than to be the one to fulfill that vow you once made. But you’ve sworn an oath to your people, and tomorrow, you will uphold it.”

Devastated to have their perfect moment shattered by the harshness of reality, Dorian didn’t follow her. She was only a few feet away and it felt like an ocean, the distance filled with an empty cold that left him numb to the bone.

Tomorrow he would keep his oath to Adarlan, forsaking his vow to himself.

The sight of her in the arms of another had tested him in ways he’d never imagined. What then, if one day she married the fae prince? Had a witchling with him? The thoughts cleaved his heart anew, and again, he was surprised to find anything left to break. This brief reprieve with her had restored it, only for it to fall apart. Dorian wondered when that damaged part of him would finally give way and disappear altogether. What shell would be left in its place? What kind of king would he be without a heart with which to love?

For all the evil he’d committed, even his father had felt love enough to bestow his own name upon his son, to hide Dorian’s magic from Erawan for as long as he could. A familiar doubt crept out of the shadows and into his head, crowing about how much weaker he was than his father. He knew he was acting like a fool, as overly dramatic as any fairy tale he’d grown up reading. But logic held no power against the depthless dark overtaking him.

Manon still had her back to him. Her shaky breaths were barely audible, but he felt her misery as sharply as he felt his own. Fighting every urge to go to her, comfort her, and in turn comfort himself, Dorian walked past her to the balcony door. He paused for one moment, watching her reflection in the glass. But when she didn’t look up, he unlatched the door and walked outside.

A second later, Dorian was a raven, flying into the frigid night. He didn’t go back to his rooms yet, choosing instead to soar higher for a while. The bite of the air at this altitude didn’t penetrate his thick feathers, so he let himself go up and up and up, leaving the world and thoughts of tomorrow behind.

To be continued...

***

Thanks for reading! You can find my writing master list here or on AO3.

It’s been a while since I’ve written and I’m not sure who all is still out there. So if I missed you, or you’d like to be tagged/removed for parts two and three, let me know.

@itach-i  @bookishwitchling  @manontrashbeak  @awesomelena555  @jimetg98  @over300books

[ssardothien]

Casteel and Rowan. Why.

Kris, you asked, I answered.

Here’s my essay on why I love both Rowan Whitethorn and Casteel Da’Neer

For me Rowan was a refreshing character and love interest from the moment he was introduced in HoF. I was attached to him from the very beginning, he seemed more complex to me than Dorian or Chaol could ever be (don’t hate on me for saying this, we can have different opinions and still respect each other and the characters that aren’t our favorite. I still love both of them, though I had a hard time convincing myself to like Chaol and it took me a while, but I do now). Ok I’ll start with his appearance. Let’s just admit that he’s a hottie. Tall, tanned, broad-shouldered warrior, masculine, fae ears, pretty green eyes and long silver hair. And his tattoos that are not just some doodles, but a story written down on his body, if that’s not attractive (and I’m not only talking about appearance but the whole message behind this) then I don’t know what is. And he has an accent that apparently sounds like a purr, I’m a simp. I love his personality, I love the way he’s witty around the ones he feels comfortable with. Because he doesn’t really seem to have a brilliant sense of humor, but it’s there and it will show from time to time how waggish and sassy he is. And the teasing between him and Aelin, it’s just sexy. I love that despite being through so much, despite loosing his loved ones, he’s still capable of expressing emotions (even though it takes him a little bit to open up), feeling things so deeply and loving others so fiercely. That for me is the definition of strength. The fact that he didn’t want to block his feeling anymore, that he wasn’t afraid to love someone again and be devoted to them, even though he’s been hurt before and he’s already lost so much. His gentleness, protectiveness and how caring he is toward his loved ones just melts my heart. And how he would literally give up his own life if there was a ghost of a chance that he could save Aelin by doing so. How he took an arrow that was meant for her and didn’t even hesitate. And I love him because unlike the others “Rowan beheld all Aelin was and is, and he was not afraid.” When she had doubts and thought of herself as a monster he simply said “If you're a monster, I'm a monster.” and that’s just beautiful to me. And this quote: “I love you. There is no limit to what I can give to you, no time I need. Even when this world is forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you.” I’m sorry but if someone said such a thing to me I would simply die because my heart would not be able to take in this amount of love.

And Casteel is just another version of Rowan to me, just in a different universe. And honestly there is no way for me to say which of these two is the better one, they are equals to me, not the same but similar in so many aspects, that I put them on the same place on the podium (first ofc). I cannot choose between these two. Rowan was the first fictional character to make me feel the way I feel about him and that is a deep admiration. I’ve read HoF back in 2015 and was simping for him ever since. But when I was introduced to Casteel recently I discovered that he awakened something in me, that part of me that got so attached to Rowan. He was pulling the same strings. He’s got it all. The caring and protective part, the teasing, the devotion, the wit and sense of humor, the handsomeness, the strength, the gentleness and softness, and he’s sexy okay?

I created a table, so you can visualise what I'm trying to say, here ya go:

This whole situation gave me one more reason to reread both tog and fbaa, so I will probably post some more about this in the future.

See this post if you want to know why Kris loves Rowan Whitethorn.

See this post if you want to know why Kris will always choose Casteel Da'Neer.

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐰𝐨

full masterlist - fic masterlist

After her successful debut into the ton, Celaena Sardothein was much in demand.

The Hamel townhouse saw a constant stream of callers; many a gentlemen fawned over the charming, eligible heiress and many a visiting lady came with the intention of recruiting this new addition to their circles as a prospective bride to their own brothers and sons. Despite her determination to laugh off compliments and insults alike - or perhaps because of it - it was not long before she was declared at par with the most eligible debutantes of the season. How this distinction pleased the lady herself could not be discerned but regardless of whether or not she liked it, she was the talk of the season and invitations to exclusive events poured in. When she accepted an invite ti the Stanhope's dinner party, the rumor mill worked and it was not long before word reached Lord Fenrys Ashryver.

"This is all pointless," muttered James Galathynius to his cousin with a pinched expression on his face.

Lord Fenrys stared at him through the mirror, sprawled as he was on James' bed.

"Really, Fen," the incensed man tried, "I know how you miss my sister—we all do but I wish you would not raise your hopes again. It is simply not possible—"

"I know the last time we found a lead, it turned out to be a dead end," said Fenrys sharply, "but it's different now. I saw her. I am not so far gone in my grief that I won't recognise the girl whose portrait I see in your father's study every day, even if she has grown up quite a bit."

"She died in the fire."

"How do you know?" The familiar arguement from last week rose to the surface. "It could have been anyone! The anklet we retrieved from the little girl's body was the only evidence of her identity."

"The anklet, a man's body beside the girl's, the warehouse's distance from our estate, it was all too coincidental."

"I think our parents might have been wrong, Jem - it could have been a misunderstanding for all we know," he tried patiently, attempting to keep the frustration with his cousin out of his voice or expression. "There can be no harm in meeting her anyway, she still is the Hamel heir after all and I know you wanted an introduction; once you see her, you will know why I am so sure."

"If you insist, I will meet her," said James. "I fear you are setting yourself up for disappointment."

"I think you will be pleasantly surprised."

James regarded his cousin. "I hate to say this, Fen—"

"Then don't."

"—but it could be an impostor too. My sister had a significant inheritance, and father recently changed his will. Aelin's assets—"

"Aelin's assets, whatever they are, can be nothing compared to the Hamel fortune."

James frowned, knowing he was backed into a corner. "If we are, I should like to inquire into her background as evidence."

Evidence.

Fenrys wondered if he meant evidence against his claims or to support them but he readily agreed that it was the wisest course. Promptly, a note was sent to his solicitor to make discreet inquires about the Hamel business, the owner and his adoptive daughter. The solicitor, Mr Stone, was a competent man and it took less than two hours to provide the basic information: the Hamel's townhouse address, their rumoured income, her dowry and the stories around Miss Sardothein's 'adoption.'

"She isn't Arobynn's adoptive daughter like everyone assumed then?"

Mr Stone said, "Arobynn did adopt her, to be sure, but only on papers. Arobynn found her in the slums of London when she was but five, and persuaded the Rhunns—who have long been his dearest friends and loyal clients—to take her in. By all accounts, it looks like he took an active interest in her education but it was the Rhunns who raised her until Arobynn amassed for himself a big enough fortune, bought an estate or two in the countryside and took her in."

"How old is she now, do you know?"

"The young lady is eighteen or around, sir, though no one can be sure."

Fenrys shot a look at his cousin.

"And what can you tell us about the Rhunns, Mr Stone?" asked James.

"Nothing good, sir."

The cousins shared a look.

"Thomas Rhunn was a country gentleman until he lost his estate in gambling and like. He has been the Hamel Corporations' prime investor since it was founded some twenty years ago—that's where his fortune comes from," said he. "You will be interested in the bank records, sir, I think—he, uh, he gets an yearly sum of five thousand pounds every year from an anonymous account since 1798."

"The year they adopted Miss Sardothein?"

Neither cousin mentioned it was also the year Aelin had 'died.'

Mr Stone went on. "It is my belief, sir, that the money was for raising the young lady - the timing certainly matches - but it is not one of Arobynn's shell accounts."

"So you think someone else is paying the Rhunns to raise her?"

"I am."

"Their financial situation," James wondered how he should broach this, "Do you think they might employ deceit to secure wealth or position?"

Fenrys gave him an annoyed look.

Mr Stone, thoughtfully said, "Thomas Rhunn is a clever sort of man, sir, but too lazy for something so devious and his wife—a more insipid, unintelligent creature doesn't exist. The daughter, though, she is an ambitious one like her godfather." He hesitated, but the gentlemen looked so interested, he continued. "But I—I think, from what I heard, she is devoted to her trade and quote adept at it. I could not believe her capable of deception to achieve that."

The gentlemen sincerely thanked him for the information and he departed.

Fenrys turned to him. "So?"

"So?"

"So did you see the many proofs?"

"I didn't see any proofs, Fen. So she's the same age as our Aelin and she was adopted."

"The same year as Aelin disappeared!"

James frowned. "That doesn't mean—"

"Yes, it does." Fenrys huffed, more hopeful than ever. "To quote your own words, 'tis too much of a coincidence.'"

He fell silent, eyes shut and took a deep breath. "It's too much. If she is—If she didn't die, you know what it means? Edward has been a shell of himself all these years, my father—he is, he is on his deathbed and Aedion joined the army—he is on the continent somewhere and we might never see him! All those years we lost grieving, and she might never have been dead. None of us even thought to look! If we had, If I had... perhaps she would have been found sooner? But no, I wish to see her first. I will not worry about all that until I am sure."

Fenrys placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I know it will be hard and I am sorry for the years you wasted," said he with a calm, reassuring smile, "but all is not lost. If tis really her, your father could see her and know she is alive before he passes, Edward could finally let go of his guilt and have his sister back—he might even die of happiness—and we will call Aedion back; he will come once he hears she is back. Tis not too late to fix everything and save the years we all still have left."

"If it is her."

"I hope, that is, I really hope that it's her."

"Indeed." James nodded. "I hope so too."

"You said she is here?" Lady Perrington looked faintly scandalized.

James rolled his eyes as the crowd turned to look at the doors where a tall, blonde woman stood on the arm of a red-haired man. The room broke into furious whispers.

Beside him, a lady—Mrs Evans, perhaps?—tittered with a companion. "My George said she is not even legally adopted, you know? You don't stand that close to your godfather." This was meant to be a whisper but her voice was too nasally, the words carried over the room and people shared alarmed looks as the object of this conversation walked towards them. The woman kept talking, entirely unaware, "I could never countenance the very thought that she is to inherit a trade empire. All of her dowry will not find her a suitor if she acts like a man."

Miss Sardothein stopped in front of them. "My dear Mrs Evans! I am so grateful for your concern for my marriage prospects." Both ladies tilted his head curiously. She pressed on. "You of all people will understand the importance of caution, I am certain." Her back was towards him but he heard the smile on her face as she spoke. "Is dear Mr Evans' gout any better now?"

James choked on his drink and sputtered. Fenrys winked at him from across the room.

Mrs Evans' face turned red.

Lady Perrington jumped to her friend's rescue. "Miss Sardothein, why, it is such a surprise to see you here! Lady Stanhope has certainly been," here, she pursed her lips and then, commented in a suggestive tone, "liberal in her choice of guests. Your godfather," she nodded towards that gentleman, "is in trade, I hear. Pray, what kind of trade, can you tell?" The guests had all abandoned their own conversations in favour of eavesdropping on this one. Lord Stanhope looked torn between amusement and alarm while his wife openly and unattractively gaped at the spectacle.

Miss Sardothein lifted a hand to dismiss the enquiry. "Oh, I can never talk business on social events but you may ask your husband at your leisure. Lord Perrington regularly invests in many of our ventures." Though the lady's back was turned to him, her voice was fierce.

"Such a devious creature," a familiar voice remarked.

Rowan greeted his cousin with a nod before fixing his eyes back on the drama unfolding in front of them.

Lady Perrington was looking around in search of allies among the onlookers but when no one stepped forward, she inclined her head, her face colored. "Indeed, I shall," she said and hastily excused herself.

Mrs Evans followed suit, eyes firmly on the floor and James almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

Before his apparent sister—how he scoffed at that notion—could turn, Rowan approached at her side. It was rare indeed that the dour man approached anyone first and never so readily. The novelty of that alone occupied his attention.

"Miss Sardothein." He bowed.

She curtsied with a smile. "Mr Whitethorn." Another man approached with a lady on his arm. "Lord Fenrys! I did not know you would be in attendance."

Lord Fenrys bowed over her hand. "I came as soon as I heard you were attending." She laughed at the gallantry—a sweet, tinkling laugh that caught his attention and he again ignored his heart's nagging— and he turned to introduce his companion. "Allow me to introduce my cousin, Mr Rowan Whitethorn of Harcomb, Doranelle and his wife, Mrs Lyria Whitethorn." Fenrys' dark eyes glinted and he smiled charmingly, letting a loose lock of hair fall on his forehead.

"I have already met Mr Whitethorn." Celaena smiled at the woman, then with a less pleasant expression towards the woman. "Mrs Whitethorn, it's a pleasure to meet you."

James had met Mrs Whitethorn barely once or twice in his life and only in passing. He had expected a genial creature, if perhaps a little reserved like her husband but she looked like a simpleton.

Though the fabric of her clothes was expensive and the stitching perfect, but the colour was dull and did no favours to her sallow complexion. Her neck remained unadorned and she wore no necklaces, bracelets or earrings, a fact made more pronounced by the tight modest bun she wore her dark hair in. By her appearance, she seemed more suited to a nunnery than to a fancy dinner party as the wife of a gentleman of rank. She exchanged curtsies and shared greetings but otherwise showed no inclination to converse and hastily excused herself as soon as was polite.

Rowan stood where he was, brooding, stiff as a board when the tradesman's daughter addressed him. "I thought you would be happy here, at least, for you detest balls but you are scowling still."

Rowan said stiffly, "I detest social events."

"Even when you don't have to dance?"

"Even then."

"I should like to hear why."

"I doubt you would understand."

"Come now, sir," said she smilingly, "Do not insult my intelligence by assuming that. Tell me and I might."

"It is not that. I—I do not—you will laugh but I hardly ever know what to say and often give offense where it is not intended." He turned to her. "You cannot have any such problem."

She arched an eyebrow in question.

He said, "You are too lively and charming, you could not possibly manage it."

"And people are too apt to forgive a pretty face in general," she agreed.

His lips twitched. "You claimed you were not a fan of convention earlier but I see you have no love for modesty either."

"For false modesty, I do not. I freely acknowledge vanity to be my chief sin." Then, she paused, "Your wife is, she is terribly shy, I think, but I hope you will not trouble yourself so much on her manner."

"I would say she is more unwilling than shy," said he with uncharacteristic openness. "I hope you were not offended."

"Oh, not at all—"

"Dear cousin," an enthusiastic voice cut through the din of polite conversation in the room, "You must stop monopolizing the lady's time. There is someone I should like to introduce her to—James. James, man, she's here, look. Allow me to present my favourite cousin, Mr James Galathynius of Graceview, Orynth."

James turned to them and bowed politely as she turned.

Then his face paled.

"Aelin." He forced a smile. "Forgive me, that is, you look exceedingly like—"

"Like five-year-old Miss Galathynius? So I've been told before," said she good humoredly.

James blinked disbelievingly. His vision blurred. Blonde hair. Ashryver eyes—that damning feature he thought Fenrys had been exaggerating about and the button nose that both, Aunt Evalin and his mother had shared. His cousin, noticing his preoccupation, engaged Miss Sardothein—nay, Aelin—into animated conversation as one thought after another crashed into his mind.

Thirteen years.

Thirteen years lost in grief and regret.

Thirteen years of seperation when they should have been searching for her.

Aelin grinned triumphantly from atop the maple tree down at her brothers, cousins and friends, dress torn and muddied. Her expression had the tiniest hint of pride as she placed herself on a sturdy branch.

"You shall fall down hurt yourself if you do not climb down, Aelin!" exclaimed Elide fretfully, twisting her muslin dress in evident distress. "And then what will we do?"

"No, no, I never shall," she insisted with a pout. "I can make this my home and you may visit me whenever you would like."

"But you cannot stay up there forever! You would feel hungry," reasoned the ever-responsible Chaol, biting his lip. Barely nine-years-old, he was the first to tattle on his friends when mishaps occured between children as they often do.

"James can bring me food," she declared haughtily, pushing one braid over her shoulder.

James grinned. "And whyever should I? You never do anything for me. I will let you starve a little perhaps. It may teach you a lesson."

"May the devil take you!"

Edward, ever the polite elder brother, reprimanded, "Aelin! That is not the language we may use." He was alarmed when her eyes teared up. "I am sorry, Aelin, love, will you not please come down?"

Aelin sniffed. "You are being mean and I will never talk to you."

"But will you not calm down before our father sees you? You would be punished." He frowned when the little rascal stuck her tongue out. He added, "If you come down, I will convince father to give Mrs Norris a leave for today."

"You promise?"

Edward nodded. "A gentleman's word."

She nodded uncertainly, then looked down and whimpered. "I can't."

Edward groaned, prompting the others to snicker at his expense. He extended his hands towards the tree.

"Climb down," he said, "James or I will catch you if you fall."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "How do I know he won't let me fall?"

"You are our little sister, Aelin," Edward said resolutely, extending his hands further as James did the same. "He will never let you hurt, I promise."

"A gentleman's word?" This time, her bright eye were trained on James.

He nodded. "A gentleman's word."

But had he not broken his promise? She ended up in a tradesman's family so far from home while everyone thought her dead. A five-year-old alone in the streets of London with no family whatsoever, thought he with growing unease. How terrified she must have been! He turned towards her now.

Her eyes had always been bright and her disposition lively but it was all tempered with a quiet dignified sort of grace. She looked beautiful now, the roundness in her face gone and her sharp features accentuating that inner fire.

His little sister.

As impulsive and easy to provoke as ever and every inch the little terror he remembered, down to the sneaky smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. He blinked the tears back into his eyes.

"You would not object, would you, James?" asked Fenrys.

He startled. "Huh?"

"Miss Sardothein here expressed her interest in chess and I thought to invite her for her a game tomorrow in your house." He raised an eyebroe. "Unless you have any prior obligations?"

He did have prior obligations but he would cancel them all. "I would be pleased to have you there."

Rowan frowned, looking between the three of them as if he was missing something. "Is that not... nevermind, but perhaps you should consider bringing your mother along, Miss Sardothein, for propriety's sake?" James cursed the man for his caution. A private visit would be an ideal time to reveal all to her but not if she brought someone along.

Thankfully, she dismissed the idea herself. "I will see if I can get papa to come along but I am a tradesman's daughter, far too involved in the business myself. I am certain my reputation will not suffer for it, unless you mind." Both he and Fenrys assured her that they would not mind at all and James reiterated how sincerely pleased he would be to have her there.

"We will see how pleased you are when I make you eat your dust, Mr Galathynius," she teased with a grin.

James grinned back. "I wouldn't be so sure."

Dear Edward,

I know we are not in the habit of exchanging correspondence as brothers ought but I hope you will forgive me for the presumption. Certain events of note have taken place here recently, such that it necessitated that you be informed immediately. I have a shocking good news to impart:

Our dearest Aelin did not die in the warehouse fire. She is very much alive and well.

By some stroke of luck, cousin Fenrys came across her at a ball and you will be shocked to hear she is the sole heir to the Arobynn Hamel, currently known as Miss Sardothein. He insisted she was our cousin since his first meeting, though I refused to believe him but I met her today and there can be no doubt to her identity. Fenrys invited her to a chess match in the evening tomorrow, where we plan to disclose everything to her. Father has not been informed yet.

Make haste to London, brother.

Yours,

James

Edward Galathynius, the Viscount Milton sat in his armchair, stunned.

He had been the last person to see Aelin. He had stupidly left her alone on the estate grounds that awful day. He remembered his father's panic, his mother's disinterest and his little brother's distress. He had been thirteen years old, back home from Eton for the duration of the summer. He envied James who could look at their childhood—her childhood—with the rose-coloured veil of forgetfulness. James was four when she was born. He would not remember her first steps, her first words, the nights she spent in his bed when she escaped the nursery, her favourite haunts and mischiefs. James would be able to look at their time together without being wrecked with agony because of his grief, the guilt for his blunder, the irrational desire to have her back. James would not dream up variations of that cursed day repeatedly over the years.

"Aelin! Aelin, love, slow down, no, not there, yes, gods, Aelin!" Edward shouted behind her. "Your frock! You look wild—no, stop that, Mrs Norris will faint of horror if you are any more muddied."

Aelin stepped into one mud puddle after another. She sent dirt flying back at her proper, dignified elder brother who pinched his nose in distaste. "Now we are both muddied," said she, grinning over her shoulder. "You can tell her that we didn't see the mud and both slipped."

"And lie to her?" He looked horrified.

Aelin tilted her head, fussing over her hair matted with mud. "Is it a lie if we do it for the greater good?"

"The greater good?"

Aelin nodded, pleased with herself. "Of not letting her faint. She is so thin, I sometimes fear a strong gust of wind will blow her away."

She ran further, bursting into giggles every few minutes and by now, had both of them looking no less than two street urchins. He tried to be stern with her but it was awfully hard to remain angry at someone so determined not to pay attention to a word. He knew better than to scold her, lest she summon her tears. That never failed to make him comply with whatever she asked.

"Aelin, there's a hole there, be careful. Stop running, will you—Aelin!" It was too late.

Her right hand gripped her ankle while the other was on her mouth in a poor attempt to stifle her sob.

Edward frowned as she whimpered in pain. "I told you not to run, no, no, don't cry, darling, it will be fine. I shall call for someone." They had been out on the grounds for a while now and the manor house was far away. She was too heavy for him to carry so far and he did not want to hurt her further.

He patted her cheek affectionately. "There, now, you are a brave girl, and I need you to wait right here. I will run back to the manor and bring help, yes?"

She promised she would not and he hurried back to the house.

The rest of the day remained hazy in his memories. He had arrived back at the spot with his father, a growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach to find her gone. Search parties were organised and the merchants, locals and servants were all on alert for the beloved little spitfire. Day faded into night, then night into dawn when an express rider came with a letter from the magistrate and his father left the house in haste. He had chanced a look at his father's letter, his concern for her too great to worry about the impropriety of reading another's letter without permission. The contents read:

Dear sir,

I am afraid I have sad tidings to depart. One of the warehouses outside the town had caught fire the previous night and two lives were lost as far as we can determine. The first—a grown man, in his thirties or forties, has been determined as a local thief—and the second, a little girl, perhaps five or six years old. Her identity has not been confirmed but we retrieved a silver anklet among the remains. I beg for your assistance in identifying the girl's family. Do come as soon as you can.

Yours

Sir Arthur Renard

His heart pounded too loud in his ears. He felt hot and cold at once. He knew why only one ankle was retrieved from the corpse, because he had the other. It had fallen off her leg earlier that day and he had retrieved it with the intention to fix the loose lock on it.

His knees buckled.

"What happened?" James asked.

Edward shook his head, about to tell him not to worry. His words choked up in his throat and he excused himself from company, pale and ashen, his head throbbing. He ran up the stairs to his room, dismissed his valet for the night and slumped onto bed. The same bed he had shared with her on nights when she was spooked by thunder or some horror story Fenrys had related to her earlier that day.

Edward had left her there alone.

He buried his face in the pillow and wept.

Rhoe withdrew into himself after the funeral. Edward found comfort back at university, where no one or nothing would remind him of his loss, where he could avoid his guilt and pain.

Then mother died.

The summer visits to family became rarer and rarer. Father never insisted, retiring into his library, the one place where her presence was most patent and he was all too happy to remain where he was. The distance increased after he left university. His father preferred James' company, who was lively and good-humored and as James preferred the society to be found in London, they made the townhouse their home while Edward ran their country estates.

But now,

She is very much alive and well. His heart would not be satisfied.

He ordered for his horse to be saddled and riding gear prepared. The best of the family suites were to be prepared and aired out. She was alive and well, and soon, she would be back home.

Feeling happier than he had in months, Edward Galathynius spurred his horse onwards, fast as he could, to London.

I know I was supposed to update Cinders first but my brain insisted on rebelling and this is what happened. I will update that one soon tho, and I think you'll like it. 💖

tags:

@thesirenwashere // @courtofjurdan //@little-crow-corvere // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass // @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @aelinchocolatelover // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @hizqueen4life // @the-gods-killer // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @curlyredqueen06 // @moondancer-204 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein //@jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @superspiritfestival // @xx-fiona-xx // @stardelia // @maastrash // @miihlovesnoone // @sanakapoor // @abookishfreak // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @morganofthewildfire // @bellamyblakru // @theilliumbluebell10 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @woollycat22

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

[fenrys-moonbeam-lochan]

With oath sworn like these

Summary: Rowan and Aelin are tired parents. Lorcan and Fenrys are to the rescue.

Ao3

Part of my Comfortember2020

XXX

Rowan startled awake as a pricing cry of a baby filled the air. Beside him, his Fireheart groaned and turned over, gently holding her stomach.

"Not again," Aelin murmured, "Mala above, the poor boy is going to cry and scream his voice away,"

Rowan murmured his agreement and was about to get up when their son's cries suddenly stopped. His wide eyes met his wife for a split second and then he was jumping out of the bed and racing toward the jointed nursery.

They had sent the nanny away. No one was supposed to be-

As he was about to open the door, a familiar wave of controlled, dark magic hit him and he sighed in relief.

He turned to his wife who was hurrying up behind him, a worried look on her face.

"It's alright," he told her, "It seems like out broody companion finally made it,"

Rowan opened the door and sure enough, Lorcan was pacing the length of the room while gently cooing at the baby in his arms. Cadyn was still softly sniffling but the attention of his uncle seemed to have done the trick. He was a lot more calmer.

"You know," said Aelin, "You could have announced yourself better. Nearly gave us a scare,"

Lorcan gave her a sheepish look, "Apologies. The storm slowed me down a bit but I promised Fenrys I would be here to train the recruits with him first thing in the morning. I was passing in front of your suite when I heard him cry. My ears are a bit more sensitive than your human guards,"

Rowan smiled at him. Lorcan might have a hard time sparing any sincere apologies but Rowan knew he meant that one. The older male had made it no secret that he adored the Whitethorn Glathynius children and he took the safety and care of their children as seriously as he took his own.

"He is at the peak of his cold," said Aelin told Lorcan, while gently stroking Cadyn's hair, "And honestly I haven't seen him this peaceful in days. I never had this much trouble with his sister,"

Rowan moved closer to his wife, gently placing a hand on her back, "It's not your fault, Love. Every child is different. And I haven't had much luck either,"

"Not to mention the two of you weren't in this much stress when you were with Evalin," said Lorcan

"Oh?" said Aelin, raining her eyebrows, bemused. Rowan's own lips quirked up in a smile

"Hmm," said Lorcan, his eyes on Cadyn and completely oblivious to their amusement, "You have all these treaties lined up and not to mention you became with child again only four months after this little one was born, and now you're five months along. Small children can pick up on moods, you know. He's probably sensing that his mama is very stressed and very tired while his papa is ready to pull his hair out,"

When he didn't get any response, Lorcan looked up to see his Queen and companion suppressing laughter.

"What?" he said, annoyed

"Pray tell us, Lord Lorcan Lochan," said Aelin, a grin on her face, "How did you come to know all this? If I didn't know better, I would say you've been taking lessons from the healers and midwives,"

"That name," He growled at her, "You are very lucky I'm holding your child right now,"

Aelin merely smirked.

"Come on, Queen," Lorcan grumbled, "You know my son and daughter are only a year apart. Who do you think walked around with Zirrek while his mother was carrying his sister,"

"I'll give you that," said Aelin, "Well, thank you for your service Lord Lorcan Lochan but we will relieve you now,"

Lorcan looked to the child and then to Aelin's outstretched arms.

"I have a better idea," he said, "Why don't you two say goodnight and I'll stay with the little one. Poor thing is probably going to want constant company,"

"We can-" started Rowan

"And probably needs it too just in case he develops a fever," continued Lorcan, talking over Rowan

"Lorcan," said Aelin with clear exasperation in her voice

"The two of you seem much too tired to be staying awake and I know you don't want to bother the nanny since you already sent her away,"

Rowan raised his eyebrows at him, "Are you sure this isn't another attempt at spending more time with and I quote 'the most adorable little thing'?"

Lorcan stared back at him with a blank face, "You have meetings in the morning too, don't you? I can function on very little sleep, you cannot,"

Aelin sighed and turned to him so they could lock their eyes together.

He's being annoying again. We never should have introduced our children to him.

A much as it pains me to admit it, he is right.

Really? He'll become even more insufferable about hogging them.

Fireheart.

He's worse than Fenrys!

After a little more back and forth, they finally turned back to Lorcan. He looked at them expectantly.

"Fine," said Aelin, "But I expect my child to be in perfect shape come morning,"

"Of course," said Lorcan, in obvious delight. He gave Cadyn over so they could say goodnight. The little boy squirmed a bit in their hold but settled back when they gave him back to Lorcan. If Rowan didn't know better, he would say Cadyn preferred the other male.

"Don't be foolish," said Lorcan

Rowan looked at him in surprise, "What?"

"I know what you're thinking, idiot," he said, "I'm just a lot warmer than you, that's all,"

Aelin snorted, "Come on, Buzzard. Uncle Lo has it handled I think,"

"Yes. Yes," said Lorcan, practically shooing them away "Go to sleep. Cadyn and I will be fine,"

Rowan shook his head as they headed back to their room. As he closed the door behind him, he heard his companion murmuring to his son.

"Did you hear that, Cadyn? You're going to spend the night with Uncle Lo. Yes, you are,"

Rowan couldn't help but smile to himself at Lorcan's, admittedly adorable, antics. If he had known that it would take children to make Lorcan more tolerable, he would have made the cadre adopt a hoard of them years ago.

xxx

Lorcan had stayed up with Cadyn the whole night, gently coddling him and giving him his draughts when necessary. Now, he stood by the window as the sun coloured the horizon, almost as beautiful as the precious little one in his arms.

"You're a beautiful little thing, you know," he said to Cadyn, "I don't know how your parent created two people as lovely as you and your sister but it happened,"

Cadyn stared at him with his Ashryver wide open ad curious. Usually, he would have answered with a little coo of his own but right now, he was silent.

"Still feeling a little weak, aren't you?" he said, "The healers are probably setting up now. We should get you checked out, hmm?"

Behind them, the door opened and Lorcan instantly recognized the scent.

"I did not expect you to be here," said Fenrys, "You didn't stay in your room?"

Lorcan turned to him, grinning at the younger male's surprise at seeing Cadyn in his arms.

"I spent the night," Lorcan said, answering the silent inquiry, "He was sick and crying, figured I would give his parents a break,"

Fenrys snorted as he came closer, "And I'm sure your intentions were entirely selfless. Absolutely nothing to do with spending time with 'the most adorable little thing', hmm?"

"You say something once," grumbled Lorcan, "And they never let it go,"

Fenrys snorted, gently stroking Cadyn's cheek. The little baby turned his head toward his other uncle, arms waving as he recognized the familiar face.

"How tired are they?"

"I really don't think they should be woken up right now, especially since they haven't gotten up themselves. Really, when was the last time Whitethorn slept in?"

Fenrys grimaced

"Their meetings," he said, "I told them they should give more responsibility to the nanny and the governess. It's what they're paid to do,"

"You can't completely blame them," said Lorcan, "They don't want to be the kind of parents that depend entirely on others to raise their children. As it is, someone is going to have to do something about those meetings now.

"Well, you're the Lord," said Fenrys

Lorcan snorted, "Yea, and then Aelin will cut my balls off for even daring to touch her schedule,"

Fenrys shrugged, "Tell her I was the one behind it,"

"Well," said Lorcan, pondering, "I suppose that could work,"

Just then Cadyn let out a small sound, the first one he had made since his crying himself out the night before.

"I think our prince agrees," murmured Fenrys, gently placing a kiss on Cadyn's head. The little boy let out a happy little squeal in answer, weakly waving his arms.

"I'm going to call Nox," said Fenrys, "The three of us will figure something out, give them a little more time,"

"Moonbeam-" Lorcan tried

"I'll get the healers for Cadyn too," Fenrys called out right before shutting the door behind him.

Lorcan sighed.

"That one still has the brain of a hyperactive child," he told Cadyn

Cadyn cooed in response.

"Of course I'm right,"

xxx

When Rowan woke up, his first thought was he hadn't woken up this refreshed in a while. His second thought was oh shit.

The rays of sunlight coming in were completely wrong. They were supposed to be up ages ago.

"Shit," he cursed out loud.

It was loud enough to wake his wife up too. It took her a few seconds to get her bearings right but once she did, her eyes widened.

"We are very late," she said, "Very very late. Why didn't anyone wake us up?"

"I don't know," said Rowan pulling clothes out of the closet, "But we need to get ready,"

Aelin nodded and turned her head toward the nursery door, "I'm going to quickly check on Cadyn,"

Rowan nodded as he put on his shirt, "I'll come too,"

They stepped through the door and stopped. Cadyn was laying on a blanket on the ground while Evalin was gently playing with his hands. Fenrys was curled around the children in wolf form and Lorcan was watching from where he was perched on the arm of the sofa. How he got his large body to balance there, Rowan would never know.

As soon as Evalin noticed them, she got up and started to run toward them.

"Mama! Papa!"

Rowan grinned down at his daughter, the sight of his child chasing away any irritation from having woken up late.

"Princess," he cried, matching her enthusiasm and scooped her up. The little girl giggled and kissed his cheek.

"I had breakfast with Fenrys and Uncle Lorcan," she said, as Aelin took her and kissed her head.

"Oh did you now?" said Aelin, "Now only if these males had woken us up on time,"

By now both Lorcan and Fenrys were standing and winced at her dangerous tone. 

"Uh," started Lorcan, "We moved your meetings around. The dignitaries are watching the session we were supposed to train. The tour of the gardens has been moved to a 'sunset tour' thus your meetings will not start for another hour and...let me see...twenty-two minutes,"

"Gives some more time," said Fenrys

"Oh and I took Cadyn to the healers," continued Lorcan, "He should be fine in a couple more days. Evalin is had her breakfast but we brought some extra with yours just in case she wants to eat with you,"

"Breakfast?" asked Aelin, tone carefully measured

Lorcan's eyes flicked to Rowan's for a brief moment before going back to the queen.

"Uh, yes," he said, "We thought it would be a good idea,"

"He keeps saying 'we'," said Fenrys, mischief clear on his face, "But really he was the one who arranged it. Nox and I just nodded and followed along,"

"Really?" said Aelin, voice quiet

"Fenrys Moonbeam!" hissed Lorcan and then turned toward Aelin, "Look, you were obviously tired and I figured it wouldn't be too big of a problem and it was Fenrys's idea to begin with-"

He abruptly trailed off as Aelin took a few steps forward and wrapped her arms around him. Lorcan's expression went from comically baffled to absolutely panicked. His eyes widely bounced between Rowan and Fenrys, his whole demeanour screaming 'help me!'.

Neither of the males stepped forward to help, quite content to watch his discomfort. Fenrys had even picked up Cadyn so the little prince could watch the show too. 

After a few moments, Aelin stepped back and quickly cooled her expression.

"We will blame that on the fact that I am pregnant and hormonal,"

Lorcan vigorously nodded his head, "Of course. Whatever you say,"

"Good," said Aelin and turned toward the table, "You said something about breakfast," 

Lorcan instantly took to the subject change, "It left it in the other room in a warming tray. I'll be right back,"

He stepped into a room and came back with cut-up fruit, warm eggs, bread and fresh juice. As promised there were smaller portions for Evalin. 

"Here you go," he said, setting everything on the table, "You can eat, get ready and then be down for your meeting in about an hour,"

"We can take the children if you like," said Fenrys

Aelin's eyes met Rowan's for a second and then she smiled at the wolf, "No, Fernys. It's fine,"

"Alright then," said Lorcan, already backing toward the door, "I'm going to leave now,"

Rowan smiled. The older male really wasn't hiding his desire to be out of there as soon as possible. It seemed like the show of affection from Aelin had disturbed him enough to even willingly leave Evalin and Cadyn's side. 

"We do have those recruits to look at," said Fenrsy, obviously taking pity on his former commander.

"Yes. Yes," said Lorcan, "The recruits. Have a good morning,"

With that, Lorcan practically ran out the door

"I think you might have broken him a little," said Rowan

"Maybe," said Aelin, amused

"I'm going to go make sure he's not too broken," said Fenrys, "You all try to relax a bit,"

"Thank you Fenrys," said Aelin

Once the young male was out of the door, Rowan sat down with Aelin and placed Cadyn in his lap.

"I have a pretty great court, don't I?" said Aelin while storing their daughter's hair. 

"I suppose you do," he murmured, "I suppose you do,"